So I'm out picking up dinner tonight ( because I missed Rachel Ray today and didnt know what to whip up),
and I'm having a hard time understanding the nice girl behind the counter at the Chinese take out joint.
All I could hear, was "walla mulla harbinga googamunga sauce?"
I said "excuse me?"
And she said (louder) "walla mulla harbinga googamunga SAUCE?"
To which I responded (louder) "what KIND of sauce?"
She, all exasperated, says ""walla mulla KIND OF SAUCE?!"
"Ooooooooh, SAUCE" I say.
"Yeah, give me some".
With a disgusted look, she takes about 400 assorted packets of some kind of sauce or other, and flings them in my bag like I had a gun pointed at her head.
"You get ALL sauces"
Oh sure, THAT she can pronounce perfectly.
And I am left there to assume its MY fault, that I dont speak whateverrthehell it was she was speaking.
Stupid finds me.
Like whan I'm driving.
I used to actually believe alien mother ships were hovering overhead, folowing me just so that around the next blind curve, they could beam a blue haired steering wheel death clutching left turn signal on for 10 miles alien driven 20 mph BELOW the speed limit fake automobile, JUST TO PISS ME OFF!
All for cosmic yuks, I believed.
It happened way too frequently to be just coincidence.
Twice in the past year, in a construction zone on I-81 up near Scran-un, one of those alien driven fake automobiles STOPPED on the interstate, just so another Alien driven fake automobile could merge with 60 Mph traffic on the (just seconds before) flowing interstate.
Now to those of you who drive hondas or suburus, that may not be much of an issue, providing you dont have your head and/or heart deeply involved in text messaging or something.
But when you are driving a less than late model large truck towing more weight than you actually should be, it gets pretty interesting.
Stupid finds me.
Like when I'm out walking with my kids on a beautiful fall day on our way to a mushroom hunt.
While walking on a curvy country road, a car comes dangerously close to me (on the edge of the road) and my kids, who were off the road.
He zips by, I raise my hands up over my head, and yell "what the hell, IDIOT!?"
So up backs the near miss vehicle, and the guys says "you got a problem?"
"Oh goodie, a tough guy", I reply.
"No, I dont have a problem, YOU almost hit us, is the problem".
Then I notice the cage bettween the front and back seat, the police looking radio in the dash, and the gun on his hip.
He said "I didnt come close to you"
To WHICH, (not getting the gravity of challenging barney fife yet) I respond "no, it was the OTHER idiot driven maroon car that almost hit me".
"I didnt almost hit you, and I'm a police officer".
"Oh, that changes everything", I said. "Troopers and Grand Sultans of Oz get to run people over, I forgot"............
But wait, it gets better.
He asks my name, and I said "for what, the insurance claim to have the frickin (cept I didnt say frickin. Yeah, I know, in front of the kids and all) denim threads removed from your goddam bumper!?"
To which, barney the nascar wannabe said "Oh thats fine language around your kids..."
But wait, it gets better.
"Oh, I suppose I should have said gosh almighty that nice police man ran over my foot...!?!?"
He put it in drive, and drove on, realizing I assume that stupid has returned the favor.
Stupid finds me, sometimes wearing uniforms.
So I'm deer hunting in the Poconos, and my vehicle is parked along the highway, like 50 others.
At the end of the (yet another) fruitless day, I emerge from the woods, and stand where my car should be.
I turn around, look at the tracks in the snow that tell me I walked in here, looked at the tire tracks in the snow that tell me my vehicle USED to be here..................
and say "Frick".
Thats one of thos monents you cant quite prepare for, and it just begs for a response.
"frick" was the best I could come up with.
December, dark, in the poconos, and miles from anywhere.
So I start walking.
A few miles into it, some fool decided it was a GOOD idea to pick up a lone man walking along the highway, at night, with a rifle over his shoulder.
Yeah I know, You cant make that up, and Thank God for it.
I get a ride to the state police barracks at the next exit, and I saunter in to report a stolen vehicle.
I start to tell the nice man in uniform behind the (not bullet proof enough for the gun on my shoulder) bullet proof glass, my story, and in walks another man in uniform.
"whats his story?" he asks, and I said "someone stole my car".
The nice man behind the glass tells him what kind it was, and the other (idiot) in uniform laughs and said "oh THAT, I had it towed."
I said "You WHAT?!" What are you RETARDED!? For WHAT!?"
Remember my mood, where I was, what I had to do to get there, and what was slung over my shoulder.
He said "because you cant park along the highway."
"What about the other 50 cars and trucks parked out there!?!?"
"didnt see any".
You're a frickin (again, didnt say frickin) moron".
(this is all true, and its a wonder I'm STILL not in jail).
"oh for THAT, I wont give you a ride to where it was towed", he said.
"Lemme get this straight", I said. "You tow my vehicle because you didnt like.......I dunno, the COLOR, you laugh when I show up to report it stolen, you CHASTISE me for hitchhiking because its illegal, and then you tell me I can walk another 20 miles, because I'm NOT FRICKIN NICE!?!?".
The nice man behind the desk actually made the other idiot go away.
This next part you have to have a wad of tobacco, a couple of beers and a good belly scratch goin on to appreciate.
I can call ducks.
Like they're on a string, I've been told.
That means that I can really sound like a duck when I get the duck call goin'.
Like I said.......You need to be of a certain "mentality"to appreciate that.
Anyways, I'm sitting in my well camoflauged spot, blowing away at the duckies flying over head, when I hear a twig snap behind me.
I stop, then continue blowing again, then I hear a distinctive metal "click".
I stand up and yell "HEY!!!!!!"
And not more than ten feet away, is stupid, with his shotgun pointed right at me and my decoys.
Holy frickin frick.
"Huhuhuhuhuhu. you sounded just like a duck", says Elmer Fudd who almost made me a statistic.
"yeah, a 6 foot two duck with glasses. I make that mistake all the time".
sometimes, stupid has a gun.
whats the moral of this story?
Be prepared, stupid is just around the corner. And he may or may not have a gun.