The Mind of Spaz

Last night I went dookie in a museum.

Ok, it’s not a real museum, it’s my parents house. See, they’ve got money and a will to leave me nothing after they pass on, so they’re spending an entire month in Florida.

I protested. I mean, they aren’t even old enough to be interested in shuffleboard, let alone spend so much time in the place Canadian seniors go to die. But they insisted Florida is where they wanted to go. Fine, go and enjoy Americas wang. Hey America! Is it cold in here or is it just you?

Since they’re gone for a month, it’s my job to collect the mail and raid their cupboards and freezer. I was there last night, before heading off to a child’s birthday party. Where I’d later learn the kid would completely ignore the gift I gave him but that’s ok. Me and his dad would spend hours playing with it afterwards.

As it does three times daily, the urge came over me to expel some solid waste. But I don’t like doing that at my parents place. I don’t like doing anything at my parents place. My mom is incredibly anal about her stuff. Ever since me and my sister moved out she’s been moving museum pieces in that can’t be touched, breathed on or looked at. In every room of the house.

She even has a whole room I’m not allowed to go into. Just for spite, I took two ugly stuffed cats and arranged them so they’re having anal sex with each other. Take that, museum!

So anyways, I’m in their downstairs washroom doing my business. Looking for the toilet paper dispenser, it’s gone. It has been replaced by some pewter showpiece toilet paper POLE thing on the floor. And the TP was all used up.

Everyone has their “things”. I have many. One of my “things” is that if there’s a toilet paper dispenser available, I cannot use TP off the roll. It has to be ON the dispenser.

Except this museum piece was more a piece of art then a functional TP dispenser. I couldn’t figure out how to replace the roll. So, I did what comes naturally to me. I started to take it apart.

Piece by piece came off and the empty cardboard tube remained stubbornly on it. Stupid thing. I now had about a billion pieces of this thing on the floor in front of me, and my ass was STILL dirty.

Finally, I bit the bullet and used the TP from the roll, not on the dispenser. I now had the monumental task of trying to put this TP dispensor back together from the million pieces I had in front of me. I had an easier job of that carborator from my ’85 olds I used to drive. Frig. Well, I did my best and I hope my mom likes the new stripper pole in the bathroom.

It’ll go well with the nympho cats she acquired in the museum room.

dumb things I do to myself, poo, talking out of my ass museum, poo, strippers, toilet paper

I know something about Pam Anderson. I’m not supposed to say anything, but you know me. I’m a huge blabbermouth!

It seems that Mz. Anderson is getting a little miffed about being overshadowed by this newest generation of bombshells – Jessica Simpson, Scarlett Johansson, Jessica Alba and the like.

It’s well known that Pam is an attention whore, and theres only one way she knows how to get it. By getting bigger and bigger boobs.

This case is no exception. She’s going for the BIGGEST boobs that man has ever seen.

How do I know? Because as a municipal representative, I was involved in the construction project.

You heard me right. CONSTRUCTION. We were successful bidders to provide the necessary land for the project. Norwich won the other boob.

Don’t believe me? I took pictures.

Here’s a view from the outside, during construction:

 

Some of the technical aspects proved especially difficult:

 

I couldn’t believe I was actually standing INSIDE the boob!

 

The boobs are scheduled for release sometime in the spring, upon successful grafting of Pam to her new boobs.

Please, don’t’ spread this around – Mum’s the word until the official release!

Thanks.

Parody, social commentary boobs, breast construction, huge knockers, Pam Anderson

Yes, it’s my birthday. Today. I’m thirty-one years old.

Holy Crap. Thirty friggin one.

It just seems like yesterday I was a fresh faced college student drinking my face off instead of sleeping and studying.

And oh, the alcohol and weed induced morning coyote uglies!  Ahh memories.

There were some things I was expecting to happen today, the day I turned old.

• I put my pants on this morning, and they didn’t jump up to my nipples.
• I was easily able to make it to the washroom for both #1 and #2
• I didn’t drive slowly in the fast lane with my blinker on
• As well, I still look behind me when I reverse.
• My hair didn’t fall out.
• I still have all my original teeth
• My smell is still Speed Stick, not vinegar, piss and diapers
• I woke up with morning glory. Mr. Happy still works!
• I was denied the seniors discount at the supermarket. Bastards.
• I fell, and I got up.
• I cut a fart and I didn’t have to check for leftovers.
• Moreover, I still CARE that there might be leftovers.
• I don’t need All Bran
• There are no aches and pains and maladies that I complain about loudly. To ANYONE who will listen.
• I told someone a story today.  It didn’t take three hours just to talk about the cab ride to the airport.
• I have NO desire to play shuffleboard.
• I didn’t go out and buy white tennis shoes and a wind breaker
• My thermostat is still set at cold, and that’s still the way I like it.
• Nobody sent me any notices from the local funeral home to pre-purchase a plot NOW.
• There’s no point in updating my will because I still OWE more than I HAVE.

See, it isn’t so bad. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go curl up in the corner in the fetal position and stay there until today is over.

dumb things I do to myself, talking out of my ass birthday, incontinance, old

I went back to Wal*Mart again.

I just can’t help it.  All the little turds lovely little children that my friends shat out gave birth to will have some cheap chinese made crap nifty little gifts from me this year.

Even though it was midnight on a Thursday night, there were still some very ugly people hogging the entire rows.  One of my favorites I’ll call VW, because she was the size and shape of a VolksWagon Beetle. I’m not kidding.

But I think the very best was B.O. Bag Lady.  I kept bumping into this woman. Wherever I was, she was.  She was around every corner, in every department, making my eyes water with her horrible “I haven’t washed since JFK was shot” smell.

She even ended up standing in line behind me and she HIT on me!  I was eying the Trojan Ultra Thins hanging in the impulse buy section, but I couldn’t find any bags to put over her head so I decided against it.

As annoying as Wal*Mart is, today I found something even more annoying.

Future Shop.

You don’t see the same type of people at Future Shop. No, these look like normal everyday people with pockets of zit ridden nerds sprinkled liberally throughout.  Actually, these are worse people.

These are the pushy entitled elitist shits.

The store was packed to elbow room only, and every single person in there was desperate to get a Wii.  Either that, or they all had to go to the washroom bad. I dunno.

All I wanted was a stinking gift card.  I grabbed one off a shelf walked to the back of the line, which happened to be about a block away from my house. Huh. Should have walked.

I waited for about a half hour and the line moved two inches forward.  My black mood was getting worse.  I had my utility knife out and was just about to slit the throat of the soccer mom in front of me if she snapped her bubble gum ONE more time when a very nice but frazzled looking store employee approached me.

“Sir, are you buying a Wii?”

“You have to pay to do that now?!?!?”

“ugh, if all you want is the gift card then you should go to customer service.  This line is for Wii’s”.

I thanked her and got out of there before I got Wii’d on.  Everybody knows that only makes you warmer for a very short time, before it makes you cold again.

I got in line behind a gaggle of dorks returning some Sony Playstations.  Holey fuck they took their sweet time.  I don’t know what they were going on about, something about upgraded memories or some shit, but it took all I had not to wedgie the dorks.

It was then that I lucked out again. A very good looking employee with HUGE boobs asked that the next person in line go to the till she was opening.  The next person in line was me.  She called another employee over to the till with even BIGGER boobs, but I didn’t find him particularly attractive at all.

It’s then when things got really, really irritating.

“Put forty bucks on this gift card please.”

“Sir, we can’t do gift cards at customer service. You’ll have to go to cash”.

I.Just.Snapped.

“EXCUSE ME?”

The poor kid ducked so fast I swear his boobs slapped him in the forhead.

“I spent half an hour waiting in THAT line behind a machine gun farter when I was TOLD to come here only to listen to that gaggle of dorks argue over a stupid gaming machine for YOU to tell ME to go back in THAT line?”

“Umm, umm.. well, I guess I could process that for you here”.

“I don’t care if you process it in your ASS just take my money and put it on the damned card NOW!”

Forty seconds later I was out the door and in my truck.

I hate holiday shopping. Especially at Wal*Mart and Future Shop.

social commentary christmas sucks my balls, futureshop, Wal*Mart

Some people say getting older means getting better.

Really. Getting older means getting better.   And you know what?  They might be right.  In some cases.  To be honest, I enjoy being able to see, hear, remember, chew, and hold my bladder and bowels.  I especially enjoy being able to get an erection and being young enough that getting an erection only grosses out teenagers and lesbians.

Unless of course that one time at Sears. That was just inappropriate.  I’m sorry, employees of the womens undergarment department!

Anyways, what I’m saying is, if you can’t see the road, hear what’s going on, remember how to work a car, and make a mess in the drivers seat, what business do you have being behind the wheel of a Buick Roadmaster, let alone any two ton deathmobile?

Case in point, I do a lot of driving for my job.  I work for a small, old blood, white bred municipality in Ontario.  And I drive during the day, which means there are a lot of old people out and about, doing old people things.  Like going to the grocery store to buy a can of tomato soup or going head stone shopping, or whatever it is old people do.

I’m driving along an 80 km/h side road. About one kilometer down (3/4 of a mile for my more ignorant American readers), I saw a car slowly backing out of his laneway.  Slow. Real slow. Like he had it in neutral gravity motion slow.

Fine, fair enough. He was a long way away, and his driveway was icy.  I’ll give him that.  He then backs onto the road, pausing for a few seconds every four feet. Once he’s out on the road proper, he cranks the wheel so that his car is on a diagonal taking up both lanes, and stops.

Of course, he took so long that I was now stopped, waiting behind him.  Here, let me show you what that all looked like.

That’s right. He just STOPPED.  He then let off the brake to go forward, but his wheels were still cranked to the left so his car went forward in the direction of his house.  Apparently, this confused him, and straightening out his wheels to travel in a forward direction was too much for his liver spotted brain to handle.  He stopped again.

I was tired of this.  I put my truck in the shoulder and drove around him. As I was driving around I noticed how old he was.  He was fucking OLD.  I’m talking so old, I’m betting his Social Security Number was 000 000 001.

As I passed him, I honked my horn to let him know I was passing him, as he was busy looking at the gear shift in utter confusion.  And he did hear the noise, because his head jerked up and looked at me and my truck in utter shock, surprise and disbelief.

He didn’t even know that I was there, at all!

He didn’t know I was approaching. He didn’t know I stopped for him. He didn’t know I passed him until I honked my horn.

This guy backed out onto an 80 km/h road way without looking to see if any cars were coming.  He drove onto the road, and literally parked his car on both lanes of traffic OBLIVIOUS to the world around him!

You hear these stories all the time.  A few years back some old man got confused at an off ramp that exited on the left of the highway, and stopped his car. In the middle of the highway.  The person behind him managed to stop, but the guy behind him didn’t. Result?  Four dead people and the old man drove away, oblivious.

An old lady backed over a jogger and dragged her to her death. She didn’t feel the hit, didn’t hear the girls screams, and didn’t notice the frantic horn hoking and light flashing from the cars behind her.

What I’m saying is, some of these ancient people are so dumb and oblivious because of their failing senses and brain power that they are JUST as dangerous behind the wheel as those asshat gang bangers and their bang bang drive by shootings.

So here is what I propose.  After the age of seventy, old people have to take a driving test once a year.  If they fail, then they are given armored vehicles in a private course.  All the gang bangers that are arrested are given back their glocks and tech 90′s and put in this closed course with the old people.

The result? End of the gang bangers and the old coots do a service to their country before they are taken off the road to save the citizens.

All neat and tidy that way, don’t you agree?

‘Nuff Said.

politically incorrect, social commentary driving, oblivious idiots, old people