WELL, IT DOES!!!
**PAUSE** (This is for people to recover from shock,laughter and to let the prissy readers to Fock off as the Scottish or is it Irish...um, well, some BODY says it that way!)
Yeahhhhhhh. I think I just lost half my readers on that one. Oh well, you were either offended or not. I never said I was the model of posh behavior. Anyway, It doesn't really matter at this point though now does it because it grabbed your attenion. That's what they call "the grabby thing" in the newspaper business. No, it's not called the "grabby thing." I'm just kidding. I almost had you, huh? Huh?? O.k., I know, I know. You saw through it at once. I was just trying to be smarter then I think I am.
God, You're probably thinking right now, "Why the F do I read this blog anymore??? He just get's crazier and crazier!!" I know but It's too late to turn the car around now and in any event, at least I'm not talking my underwear collection or something, right? Right??? BEEE-Sides, We are already well into this post. Treking stalwortly into the heart of the beast. Too late to turn back now I'm afraid. You are about to be bombarded with my famous (or infamous)insanity.
TICKETS PLEASE!!!!!! (sounds of paper tickets tearing).
Anyway, on with the show!!
I was driving home from Boulder today when I came up behind this old, beat-up Chrysler LeBaron. Now, for those who do not know, this car it is an American car from the late 80's. It's not the nicest car and it never was. It was always kind of the ghetto version of a Cadillac. Now that everyone is up to speed we will continue.
So, this LeBaron was so beat to shit that it had duck tape slapped on it in various places. I assumed that this was to hold various but important parts of the car together. Thinking this I abruptly slowed down so as to avoid any flying wreckage that might disengage itself from the car and come flying at the speed of light to greet my wind shield (or wind screen for all my Brit's).
Let me rewind a bit and explain the next part of this story. Here in Colorado you can get a special license plate if your car is an antique or what we around here call a "classic car." Well, this poor, abused Chrysler Lebaron happened to have one of these plates on it. I had to laugh because the car isn't really that old of a model and it isn't very "classic." It certainly is no Corvette, Mustang, Porshe or GTO but then again, "One man's shit is another man's treasue" Conversely, however, you also "Can not polish a terd!!" I have no idea how this guy qualified to get "antique car" plates. I can just imagine the conversation between this guy and the Driver License Bureau.
Man: "Can I get 'antique plates'?"
Clerk: "What kind of car is it?"
Man: "A 1988 Chrysler LeBaron."
Clerk: (Hysterical laughter)I'm sorry It's just that I thought you said an '88
Man: "I DID!! What's so damn funny?!"
Clerk: "What's so special about your '88 Lebaron?!" "Did your mother give birth to
you in it??" "Or wait, maybe it's an 'antique' because your grandmother
lives in it?"
Man: "Look, are you gonna give me the plates or not?"
Clerk: "Here, quick. Take 'em. Your going to make me pee my pants otherwise!!"
That is probably not at all how the conversation went but it's all I could come up with and It it sounded cool at the time. Then again, that was probably the tranquilizer speaking. Everything is funny when you're on tranquilizers. It's kind of like ganja that way. Anyway, It was WAY worth your time reading this though because there is a moral to all this.
And The Moral of the story Is???...
"Don't run with scissors."
Sorry, that's the only moral I remember right now. Well, it was either that or "Don't take any wooden Nickels." Hmmmm, or howz about, "Don't drive any wooden LeBarons while using scissors???"
Ahh fuck it.
My brain hurts now (mania you know).
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