You just made my list!

Finally Chevy has figured out a way for you to NEVER escape the incessant, meaningless blathering barfed out by all of your “friends” on Facebook. You never said more than two words to these people when you sat next to them in algebra 20 years ago, but thanks to the magic of Facebook, you now have an up-to-the-minute update of every dumb thing their fat kids do and say.

Well, guess what? Your once peaceful drive home from the adult book store is now going to be filled with wacky anecdotes about microwaved Legos and pancakes found under rugs. Good luck getting a boner after that.

I invite you all to take a look at your Facebook “news feed” right now and imagine what it would sound like to have it read to you by your car. For example, if I was driving right now I would learn that “After shopping all afternoon with my kids, it’s safe to say I am NOT a ‘shop till you drop’ kind of person!!! LOL!”

Way to go society!

You know, just because you are an “emergency” vehicle trying to “save someone’s life” it doesn’t mean you have the right to make me miss my turn at the green light. I mean come on, I sat there forever in a long line of cars watching the lights go from red to green, red to green, red to green until FINALLY it was my turn to sniff the sweet aroma of green light freedom. I fantasized about this moment for the last 5 minutes and even planned on changing my Facebook status to “Woo hoo, finally made it through the intersection. Thank you Mr. Green Light!” but you and your gaudy, flashy vehicle just HAD to be there at the same time and ruin everything!

Fuck you ambulance, what’s the rush? And fuck you dying person in the back of the ambulance too. What, the whole world has to bow to you as you parade around the city in that kickass adjustable bed like some big shot? “Oooooo, look at me, I’m Donald Trump.” Maybe I would like someone to drive my lazy ass around, ever think of that? Selfish prick.

I hope you know I’m secretly hoping you die. Yeah that’s right, you make me miss the first 2 minutes of “The Biggest Loser” and I pray for your death. Seems totally fair and rational to me. You inconvenience me, so I hope you are inconvenienced by an exploding heart.

Ahhhhh, that feels much better.

This is going to be a short rant for 2 reasons.

1) I spent the day in a 5 hour meeting. The kind of meeting where you aren’t the person doing any talking so all you do is sit there and conjure up the sickest sexual fantasies you can involving the women attending the meeting. Then someone finally turns to you and says, “What do you think?” and you blurt out “Baby oil!”

2) Does anyone really care what I have to say about anything?

3) I’m just kidding, I know I am worshiped by many.

4) I was going to write about Giada de Laurentiis and her crazy psycho smile but while looking for photos of her I realized I’m too hypnotized by her cleavage to say anything negative about her. “Baby oil!”

5) Finally, what can really be said about these people? Learn how wide your car is jackass. Should this bother me? Does it actually affect my life in any way? The answer is obviously yes. I hate these people! I also hate people who have no idea where their front bumper is and will cause me to die a slow death behind them in traffic because they REFUSE to simply turn their steering wheel and go around whatever obstacle is in their (our) way. It bothers me. A lot of things bother me.

It’s over Brad, let it go.

Thank you.

Thank you for reminding me to not run you over while you cross the street. I was seconds away from slamming my foot down on the gas pedal and running your cranky ass over when, out of nowhere, BAM you put that hand in my face, commanding me to think twice about the murder I was about to commit. I especially appreciated that you also gave me the stink-eye the entire time you walked from curb to curb as if to say, “I know you wanted to run me over but I forbid it. FORBID IT!”

People are the worst.

Thank God your shitty kids don’t have to suffer through watching the same program while you DRIVE TO FUCKING WAL-MART!

Are you kidding me with this? It’s not good enough to have a DVD player in your minivan, now you have to have a TV that allows each of your horrible brats to watch their own show? No wonder every kid walks around like they are King Awesome. When did the world start revolving around white, suburban toddlers?

You know what my parents would have said to me if I asked for TV in our car? They would have said “What the fuck are you talking about? It’s 1978.” I was lucky that our car had FM radio, not that I was ever allowed to control it.

When I was about 8 years old we drove 1200 miles (each way) to fucking Florida from fucking Illinois in a fucking station wagon. And guess what assholes, there were four adults so the THREE kids had the pleasure of riding in the back ALL THE FUCKING WAY TO FLORIDA AND BACK. You know what that station wagon didn’t have? A fucking seat in the back so we rode on a hard slab of asbestos filled plastic. Oh yeah, you can forget about that little fantasy of air conditioning too. You know what the craziest thing about that trip was? The fact that all four adults and all three kids fondly look back at that vacation as the best vacation ever.

It was a great trip because we shared the same experience and we were connected as a family. Sure, much of the trip involved the car being pulled over to occasionally beat the children but we were beaten as a family and that’s all that matters.

The more “entertainment” you cram down your kid’s throats the more bored they become. Some of my favorite childhood memories involve lying down on the back seat as we drove through the country, watching the night sky float past as the AM radio filled the car with static-y warmth. Perfection.

Ridiculous.

Here’s a spoiler… you’re a dick.

I wouldn’t have even noticed how shitty your car was if you didn’t stick that ridiculous spoiler on the trunk of your mom’s car, but now it’s all I can think about. Well, I’m also possessed with the thought of forcing you off the road and watching your car roll over five times, fully engulfed in flames. Oh, that’s right, your car CAN’T roll over thanks to that $30 spoiler forcing your 1996 Honda Civic to grip the road like a Formula-1 race car! You win this one Brad.

Thank God that “wing” of yours is keeping your car on the road as you race through the streets of Beaver’s Knob, Wisconsin on your way to work at Bed Bath & Beyond. Oh Brad, I also wanted to let you know, that fat tailpipe you installed doesn’t make your car sound at all like a moped. On the contrary B Dawg, that crazy thing makes you sound like a fucking jet fighter.

Honestly Brad, when you zoom past me in your space ship car that sounds like a cordless drill, my Dockers get a little tight.

Thank God you protected your 1997 Dodge Neon from possible dings by parking in five spots. I wish your parents aborted you.

These assholes should be sterilized. The sterilization process should consist of their shitty car being shoved up their penis until it explodes. I honestly want these people to die. Seriously, I want all people who park in two spaces in some pathetic attempt to protect their shitty car to die. Actual death. DIE!

I just realized there  is not much more to say about this subject and now I’m panicking because everyone is going to be like, “Listy, you suck. You’re off your game.” So let me say this, fuck off. Sometimes I just need to complain and not be funny. Also, I’m in a very good mood thanks to many beers and it’s hard to complain when you are feeling jolly. So don’t bother telling me I suck, I already know.

So, to sum it up, people who park in two parking spots should be murdered.

Also, this is the greatest thing I have ever seen. If you disagree, please stop visiting my website.