Due to last nights storm, most of the traffic lights are out in Fairfax County. For anyone who took drivers ed, this means all intersections default to 4 way stop rules.
You remember those rules, don't you?
Here's a refresher:
TAKE TURNS, YOU DUMB BASTARDS!
Of course in northern Virginia, it just means that the clueless moron drivers now rule the road even more than when the traffic lights are on.
By: Daryl "Email Marketing Guru for Really Reals" Northrop
My Cox cable price-lock is coming to an end. Oh dear. Dear oh dear. *Wrings hands* *Clutches Pearls* *Hyperventilates* *Wets self*
Luckily, the marketing pooptards at Cox have informed me of this! I clicked on their at, resplendent with chirpy, techy-looking, female eye-candy with smarty-glasses, and was presented with this fecal-oriented page:
Dear Cox: Just because I live in Fairfax County, don't assume I have, you know, "money."
Look closely now.....Where is the price? It's like a game show! "Click for the mystery price, or win a elderly goat!"
Well, I guess the value proposition here is this is a good demonstration on how NOT to do email marketing.
By: Daryl "Just run in to me, I like it. Yeah, do it harder baby" Northrop
Hello reader(s). This morning, for the SECOND TIME IN ONE WEEK, some mentally inert waste of oxygen spaced off at a stop light and rolled backwards into my front bumper. Good. Fucking. Times.
Luckily, an artist was present at each incident and was able to do a quick sketch of me:
Notice that when I am angry, my ears vanish. Weird, right?
Why? Why does this happen? How distracted/mentally deficient do you have to be in order to forget to keep you damn foot on the damn brake????
POP QUIZ: Identify the brake pedal in this mysterious jumble of automotive gadgetry:
Hint - it's NOT the skinny pedal.
And I end up asking myself "Why are Northern Virginia drivers so damn bad at driving?" Then, after nearly 20 seconds of Google-sleuthing, I found this!
AH HA!
Notice the left hand turn from the right hand lane maneuver on the cover. This is a Northern Virginia classic! I see this every single day. You're just not driving correctly unless you suspend every goddamned ounce of self awareness you have and just drive wherever the fuck you want. Bonus point if you are just plain suicidal.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go try to scrub the invisible fucking bullseye off the bumper of my super-tough Prius.
As you might know, spring is spranging all over the place here in the People's Democratic Republic of Northern Virginia. The means plants have having sex like crazy and spewing their love-pollen all over everything. Well, apparently my Prius is DEAD SEXY if you are a plant, that is.
It has been covered with tree spunk for about 2 weeks now. So I thought "Hey! Maybe I'll get the car washed and the local Car Scrubbery Center!"
Silly me. What was I thinking?
Car wash number one: out of order.
Car wash number two: overrun with customers, plus their payment box only accepts cash, except that it won't accept cash, so you have to go in and buy an authorization code.
*Thanks for all your hard work, Abdul Raheem! They aren't paying you enough, I'm sure.
So what's the big deal, you might ask? Let me tell you. There is a weird dichotomy in the car wash world between the "inner suburbs" and the "outer suburbs." In the inner suburbs, you have your choice between: Sketchy automated carwashes located at gas station that are either broken, or nearly broken. Or, you have to go to a car wash center where you have to get out of your car, pick your "wash package" (scented soap, unscented soap, lysol-bomb your interior, sing a lullaby to your tires, rub a goat on your dashboard, alphabetize your glove compartment, remove the banana from your tailpipe?). Ugh. Too many choices. Plus, 75 guys bum-rush your vehicle at the end to dry it off with hand towels. I have no idea if this involves an orgy of tipping or not. It's just too confusing. Too many options, too many people, plus I don't want to surrender my car and actually have to interact with other human beings in any way, ever. So there.
In the outer suburbs, you have lots of automated carwashes, and some car wash centers. So if you want to use an automated car wash like Zeus intended, then you actually have access to them!!!! Is that so damn hard, inner suburbs???
So in one of those weird reality-vortex's that open up periodically, it comes down to that in one of the wealthiest suburbs in the nation, it's difficult to get your car washed. It would be so much easier if there were some sort of mobile Bikini Carwash squad of attractive ladies that could just come to my condo and suds up the family truckster, but sadly the FASCIST PRUDES of the condo committee have label it VERBOTEN to wash your car in the parking lot.
(Im)Moral of the story: Strike a blow for freedom, ladies! Squeeze into that bikini, and come over to scrub my car!!!!
We all know how the 2 dimensional Mercator style map distorts the shape and scale of landmasses, right? (Just nod, you lazy morons. Pay attention for once in class, or else you'll only be able to do politics when you grow up, or be a crazed, drooling homeless person, whatever).
Well, underachievers, the problem is worse than we thought. This map, which cancels out all map distortion issues, shows the true geography of Fairfax County, Virginia (of which I am a proud resident of, because it's a rich, elitist county). We now know that Maine, Connecticut, Vermont, and New Hampshire are actually all completely encompassed within the southern portion of the county, near Clifton. So all you crusty northeastern Yankees, feel free to stop on by, you only live about 30 minutes from my house!
Found out a fun fact about the Commonwealth of Virginia. Wait. Commonwealth? Common-Wealth? Sounds like socialism to me. But we'll save that for another post.
Anyhow, back to the fun fact about Virginia. Many states have concealed weapons permit laws, meaning, you legally buy a handgun, apply for a concealed weapons permit, and then can carry the gun under your jacket, or in an ankle-holster, or under your mullet, or whatever. Right? Right. 2nd amendment, bishes! Here in the lovely land of Virginia, concealed weapons permits are pretty easy to get.
But what if getting one of those permits is just too much gosh darned work?! Virginia has a solution for that as well. For we are an....drum roll please.......OPEN CARRY STATE. "What is that?" you might be asking as you swill mango-tini's in your posh dwelling, you liberal elitist, you. The open carry laws stipulate that as long as you are: over 21, not a felon, and have most of your teeth (ok, made that one up), you can carry a pistol in a firearm on your hip, or slung over your shoulder, right out in the open, unconcealed, and this is perfectly ok and legal.
Yes, you read that right.
It is completely legal. In fact, it's encouraged here. (Ok, made that up as well, but it's not discouraged either.) So in that spirit, I am going to embrace my rights under the open-carry law, but with some style. Anybody can be a 9mm semi-automatic pistol. But I was thinking of going old school, like a BLUNDERBUSS! Hell yeah. I'm thinking something like this:
***Note to self: Grow massive beard.
And for the ladies, you can be uber-stylish and feminine with your open-carry blunderbuss-based outfit as well!
+
***Massive beard not included, and not encouraged. Ew.
I'd like a time machine so I can kick Alexander Graham Bell right in the nads.
"Watson! Come here, I just got kicked in the junk by some very handsome man from the future!"
Yesterday and today I wanted to use my Cellular Radiophone to send "Text Message" to the ever-scintillating April. It was something really important like "Gimme a dollar" or "Did you smell that?" or "Is it Tuesday?" In any event, when I send a "Text Message" I expect it to travel through the ether, carried by the invisible telephone-gnomes of the Verizon Wireless Amazeballs Network of Speedfulness, and reassembled by the teeny little carpenter penguins that live in April's phone, so that she may read my missives of deep, and profound import.
Naturally, that did not happen. Apparently my phone now needs to be periodically turned off and then turned back on again to get the messages ejaculated into the ether. Glad Android is now starting to behave like every Microsoft PC operating system since Win95.
Looking forward to a healthy tan from basking in the rage.......
Friends, enemies, family, acquaintances, people I stalk, let me tell you something: Being Angry Daryl takes energy, especially the angry part. The gritting of teeth, the throbbing of neck and forehead veins, the angry rants, the vigorous typing, those all take energy. As we all know, better health leads to more energy, which leads to INCREASED ABILITY TO BRING THE ANGRY!!! Plus, my pants might fit better, so that's nice...
As some of you may have seen on my FaceBorg page, I have been stocking up on fruits and veggies, purchased a juicer, and have been gulping some uber-healthy fruit/veggies mixes. "Why, Daryl? Why are you doing such things?" you might be asking, if you gave a fuck about me, which you all do, because you love me, AND FEAR ME!
Ahem.
Anyhow, a few weeks ago, I was staying up too late on a school night, and watched the movie "Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead." It's focusses on three regular people who take charge of their lives and health, and decide to give their bodies the proper nourishment we often lack due to the fast-food, shovel crap into your mouth type of culture we live in. Now, was I fat, sick, or nearly dead? No. But, I wasn't eating healthy or taking very good care of myself. I was eating too much, not getting nearly enough unprocessed fruits and veggies, and not getting any exercise. Changes needed to be made. Take a look at the trailer for the movie.
Back in December, I started going to a gym, using the treadmill and weights to get some of the "jiggle" out of my body. I liked to think I carried my weight well, but the truth is, I had gone soft, was getting a gut, and I am turning 40 in May. Fighting the battle of the bulge doesn't get any easier as you get older. I had no excuse other than my own laziness for not using the gym. It was free, it was 75 yards from my office, and it had everything I needed. So I started going 3 times a week, and it's helped quite a bit. Now, I can lift battleships. Ok, that's an exaggeration, but I do feel better, look better, and jiggle much less. Plus, it was an excuse to get a snazzy new pair of walking/running exercisey shoes.
Dead sexy legs! And yes, that's the shower in front of me.
And now, back to the juicing. The "Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead" movie advocates adding natural blends of fruits and veggie juices to your diet as a way of getting the plant nutrients we need to be really healthy. The human body is designed to run on unprocessed/minimally processed plants and minimally processed meat. Modern food culture gives us way too much processed crap that is severely lacking in nutrients, but you knew that, didn't you? Just nod even if you are shocked by this statement. So, purchased a Breville Juicer, and a small truckload of fruits and veggies....
Boom.
Praise Cthulhu, that's a lot of fruits and veggies! Takes up 80% of the fridge!
Good god. Yet more fruit.
And now, the end product of juicing together 8 kale leaves, 8 swiss chard leaves, 1 cucumber, and 6 tangerines, you get The Green Elixir!
Behold! The power of the Sun! Yes, it tasted really green!
So this weekend, I am going to be adding a lot of juice to my diet, and seeing where this leads me. Probably to the bathroom, if Ted is to be believed, but what the hell does he know? Quite a lot, actually. In any event, I look forward to trying the recipe's from the Reboot website (nutritional guidance for those looking to do what the people in the Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead movie did).
Here's a very un-angry and genuine congrats to Friends Of The Bloggers - Jeff Hunt and his wife Nicole on the birth of their third child Daniel Robert Hunt today. "Mommy and Daniel are doing great" says Jeff.
GUNS! Love 'em. Need 'em. Want 'em. Gotsta own lots of them!
Luckily, I live in Virginia, where the enlightened legislators in Richmond repealed the states mean, restrictive, insane, communist, unwholesome, anti-American law that limited citizens to ONE MEASLY HANDGUN PURCHASE PER MONTH.
One.
Uno.
Un.
Ein..
No matter how you say it. Being able to buy only one lonely handgun per month was so awful it was likely to make you fail to signal a lane change, or worse yet, vote for Green Party candidates. Go ahead. PROVE ME WRONG.
So I thought to myself "who would benefit from being able to by multiple handguns per month?"
The first person that came to mind is this guy:
Because when you're hunting varmints or that rascally rabbit Bugs Bunny, you need more than one gun. And of course, one cannot forget the Hindu god Vishnu***...
Apologies to Hindu's everywhere.
I only used this pic because it made me feel silly in my pants
And if we're going to include cartoon characters and dieties, we better include scary monsters, too. Because scary monsters love guns. Just ask one! There he is, right under your bed.... This fellow here has clearly suffered from Virginia's previous one-gun-per month law. He had to fashion a buzz-saw and a set of pincers for his other two hands!
Now, best of all, the overachieving seemingly multiple-armed douche-canoe in your office who sets expectations so high that none of you will ever get a decent raise can now go on a truly epic killing spree because they can now purchase enough guns for all their effing arms at the same time. HOORAY.
"Yes, I know I need yet another arm to hold my phone
OMFG where are all my guns all at once???
So, nut-huggers, the lesson here in Virginia is that the enlightened plantation owners of the state legislature are busy repealing unjust laws that deeply impact all of us. I have to go now, as I am part of a lobbying act to lower the cost of getting a drivers license for my pet Cylons.
As many of you know, because I endlessly blather to you about it lest you forget, I am active with the Green Party. Why? Because I can count to 3, and 3 > 2. Neener.
Always wanting to learn about new campaign tactics, strategies, and meet fellow Greenies, I was happy to hear that the Maryland Green Party, in concert with the Green Party of the United States, was offering Campaign Training at the Green Party national headquarters in District of Columbia. The information was in an email that had been forwarded to me. And that was when I noticed something odd.
There was no RSVP instructions. It wasn't a Facebook event, or a Meetup, or an Evite, or any sort of meeting where they had any idea who might be showing up. "Oh you silly Greens," I thought "with your plan shit by the seat of your pants because planning is hard and doing things withou a plan is just a pants-pooping good time." The meeting was scheduled to start at 8:30am on Saturday January 21st.
What could possible go wrong?
Oh John....you had such lovely hair....
Good question, John Huntsman! I'll tell you what went wrong. The greater DC area received NEARLY AN ENTIRE INCH OF SNOW. SNOW, I TELL YOU! AN INCH! Being a savvy guy, I wondered if this might impact my Green Party campaign training even. Check email: no updates. Check national Green Party website: no updates. Check Maryland Green Party website: no updates. Call Green Party HQ: no updated voicemail. So I hopped into my Prius (now with extra eco-smugness) and drove off to GPHQ nestled in the Takoma Park neighborhood of DC.
I stroll up to the office building, and this is what I see.....
A MOTHERFUCKING PAPER NOTE TAPED TO THE EFFING WINDOW. WHAT IS THIS, THE X-FILES??? IS THE SMOKING MAN STANDING BEHIND ME? WILL I GET TO MAKE OUT WITH SCULLY? OR MULDER? NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT!
This is why the Green Party can't have nice things....like electoral victories. It's because far too many of us cannot communicate or organize our way out of a wet paper bag. (Please recycle, nut-hugger) Heaven fucking forbid we: actually collect RSVP emails and send an email that states "Hey, 1 inch of snow made my balls shrivel up inside me, so the training is canceled." Or, oh I don't know....UPDATE THE VOICEMAIL ON THE OFFICE PHONE TO SAY "TRAINING'S CANCELED, BITCHES, FIGURE IT OUT BY YOURSELF!!!!!"
It is amateur hour bullshit like this that makes me furious. Is it as retarded as say, Gingrich, Perry, and Santorum being too damn dumb to get on the Virginia Primary ballot? No. But, if we can't do the goddamned easy stuff like schedule campaign training, and simultaeously be able to deal with the collapse of society due to one entire inch of snow, how do we expect to seize power, declare a Green Party perpetual dictatorship, send all Republicans and Democrats to our pre-planned Ralph Nader-themed "Re-education camps." and loot the fuck out of the Treasury???...um....I mean build a grassroots democracy movement that promises hugs and unicorns for all?
Looking forward to this little meeting being rescheduled so I can ream the hell out of whoever decided that ink-on-paper-stuck-to-a-window passes for effective communication in 2012. In 1612, this would have been the best shit ever, come to think of it.
We've all felt it. The icy clench of rage accosting your sternum and pinching, clutching, gorilla-gripping until your heart feels like it's about to explode in ragey rage rage.
Nothing unleashes my rage-monster more quickly than the District of Columbia's illustrious barons of food service..or as I like to call them, food-servants.
Coming from Los Angeles, where everyone is an aspiring actor, actress, marimba-player or moderntechnojazz-dancer hoping to make it big, everyone treats you nicely. Who knows, you could be a talent scout, B-movie producer, or the conductor of the world's finest marimba orchestra. Your water glass is filled (garnished with a slice of yuzu, if you're in a finer establishment), your brown rice is subbed for quinoa with nary a hitch, your tilapia is grilled to perfection, your fork is replaced between every course.
Well, I may be exaggerating, but my rage monster reared its ugly head at the Foggy Bottom Whole Foods as of late and this is a prime example of why I hate consuming edibles in our Nation's Capital. Please see following succession of tweets:
When you arrive at Whole Foods, you are greeted by the unblinking yet cheerful stares of an armada of touchscreen food ordering devices. The purpose of these, Emperor WholeFoodsian, is so that your customer may order whatever sandwich, "Good Food Bowl," maki sushi or gold-dipped piece of crap that they like. Ahead of time. You even allow your customer to pay at said touchscreen food ordering device. This is supposed to expedite your customer's order and keep your kitchen organized.
When your customer arrives at your Sandwich CounterLand, they are greeted by another array of flatscreens which is supposed to tell them when their order is ready. You are NOT supposed to call the customers to the counter one by one, ask for their printed receipt, and THEN begin assembling their order. You are also NOT supposed to offer things on your auto-menu THAT ARE COMPLETELY OUT. Nor are you supposed to hire stoned-looking sandwich guys who ATTEMPT TO SQUIRT COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF MAYO ON YOUR CUSTOMER'S SANDWICH, CAUSING YOUR CUSTOMER TO LUNGE TOWARDS THE PLATE-GLASS SCREECHING NO NO NO!!! EMULSION OF DEATH UNNECESSARY!!!!
To add insult to injury, you tweet back to me saying that if I ever so kindly bring back my receipt to Customer Service, I will receive a full refund. Well you know what, Emperor WholeFoodsian, I threw that scrap of rage out with the garbage that your "customer service" smells worse than. If you are really "sorry for the inconvenience I experienced," you know what? FIX YOUR DAMNED SANDWICH COUNTER EMPLOYEE.
So with that, fellow District Denizens, I issue you a call to action. We cannot allow ourselves to be downtrodden by the despicably bad food service in this city, and simply roll over and accept it as normal. Don't just sit at your table, your water glass crying for more water, your bread basket not refilled, beaten into submission by the horrible table and counter service in this city. I implore you: Vote With Your Wallets. If it sucks, don't eat there. Please.
Either that or I will raise an army to sledgehammer your Fair Trade hemp reusable grocery bags. TO THE DEATH!
Have I bitched and moaned recently about grocery store checkout problems? Yes? No? Too bad. Strap in. (I said "strap in", Daryl, not "strap on". Sheesh.) Here goes.
The SELFAUTOCHECKOUT2000SUPERROBOT MACHINE:
Pros:
Because I'm a nerd who does design and computer things, I have a pretty decent sense for a graphical user interface, so following along with the instructions of the nice robot lady is pretty easy. Also - I understand the basic workflow of how to check out. Wave your food over the red beam (or weigh it and punch in the code if it's healthy hippie vegetable shit), and put it in the bag. When you're out of things to wave over the red beam, figure out a way to put money in her. The robot, that is. Get your receipt and leave. Ta da.
It's usually pretty fast, at least when I do it. Boing.
If I have to buy something that society considers "awkward" like condoms or the extra large box of Cheez-Its (Buying both at once? Let's be friends!) I don't have to run the risk of a checkout person judging me or smirking, or thinking up a story to tell their friends later about this fat guy in a "Re-Elect Clay Davis" t-shirt who was buying nothing but condoms and snack crackers. Basket, red beam, canvas bag. Done.
Daryl has a crush on the robot lady voice who tells him what to do, so it's always nice to say hi to a friend.
Cons:
Slow people. Old people. "Hey, um, so, where, uhh, I can't see, what do I do? Money? Card? This thing doesn't have a thing? Where, um, can, I, wait I forgot to scan this, umm, money? How much? Where? Do I sign? Help"
The Line. At the Harris-Titter-Tooter by my house it's usually a line of fat people buying carbonated sugar water, so it takes them awhile to hurf-durf the 48pack (on sale!) over the red beam and into a bag or not into a bag because it won't fit into a bag and then, of course, they have to go bother...
The Attendant who is pissed that 6 of her friends' jobs were taken up by these stupid robots with the sexy lady voice Daryl likes and really could not give a fuck about whatever it is that you need when you accidentally punched in the code for kumquats when you meant to punch in the code for grapefruits. You're expecting customer service? You're checking out with a robot. Customer service *this*.
The Scale. Not the one you weigh your kumquats on (boing!) but the giant one that you probably didn't realize even *was* a scale where you put your shit into bags. It weighs what you put in the bags to verify that what you scanned was actually what you scanned. Which is totally fine, and all, but because I'm a RESPONSIBLE MEMBER OF SOCIETY I bring my canvass bags which are HEAVY which always FUCK UP THE BAG SCALE when I try to load my bag full of condoms and Cheez-Its so then The Attendant has to punch a code into The Attendent Computer Station so that the robot doesn't think I'm trying to steal things. Assuming The Attendant is even paying attention to the fact that there's a fat guy standing there holding a box of Cheez-Its looking helpless.
The Regular Old-School Checkout Lines
Pros:
Usually pretty quick.
Sometimes you'll get a happy smile.
You don't really have to do anything.
Cons:
At the Harris-Tooter-Scooter-Pooper by my house, I can't really tell where I'm supposed to put my basket or stand, because they have these weird island things that you have to maneuver around. Put...basket...where....then...I...what?
Then The Food goes on this little circular thing to bag, but there never are bag people, and the checkout person doesn't really want to bag for you, so you awkwardly lean over the credit card thing, or go around to the back where an actual bag person would stand and then accidentally hit the ROTATOR SWITCH with your pelvis so that you're chasing your Cheez-Its around this little round spinny thing as you're trying to jam it into your big heavy canvas bag which is also spinning around in a big circle.
Having to talk to other people. Ugh.
This is a big reason why I try to eat takeout Thai food every day. Mostly because a good spicy PAD KA POW really helps get rid of the orange stains on your teeth that are leftover from the Cheez-Its. Science, bitches. Look it up.
Spotted this bi-pedal, half human, half leopard, half bear creature at our local grocery store.
This creature, and their choice of fashion did not make me angry, so much as very, very confused about the following:
1. Is this proper grocery store attire? (lets assume it is not Halloween, and she is not on her way to a "Jungle: RAWR!" themed party) 2. Did she lose a bet and was forced to dress this way? Later, she turned around and appeared to be about 40yrs old - too old for a sorority initiation stunt? 3. Should I dress this way? I'd have to grow my hair out a bit, and get a bad dye job.... 4. Would Ted look hot dressed like this? I think so!
No, you perverts, this is NOT about metal zippers : P
Confession: I am a morning person!! So. HAPPY!!! The sun is shining! It's time to explore a new day!! ::dodges rotten vegetables being thrown:: Don't worry, my husband lethally hates this phenomenon as well.** While happy to greet a new day sans caffeine I completely sympathize with the rest of the world population that is unable to function before high noon.
My humble-yet-begging suggestion is to the boxed cereal industry: Please, please, please put the cereal contents into a plastic bag with a .....wait for it.....resealable top. POW!! Ziploc/Dow Chemical Company is salivating while waiting for you to call.
While I am horrendously cheery in the mornings I detest having to fight with plastic bags that refuse to open pretty (think cereal scattered e.v.e.r.y.w.h.e.r.e.) and having to attempt to close the gash in the bag to keep the rest of the contents fresh is a lost cause : (
Come on - other companies are doing it!!! Dried fruit snackies, tortillas, shredded cheese, even block cheese for heaven's sake.
And if you could make the plastic bag recyclable that would be extra super-duper!!
**Editors note - it's true, I am not a morning person. Not. Even. Close.
