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Trivial things that make you surly


elfenix

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I read a Phish review several years ago by someone who obviously wasn't a Phish fan.  They described the sights, sounds, and smells of the concert and it was hilarious to me.  I'm not a Phish fan, and Phish doesn't make me surly, but I've tried to find that specific review several times.  I haven't been able to, and that makes me surely.

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Just caught another one in the house.  Thought I had fixed the access point.  Apparently not.  Pro is coming out tomorrow, but I’m 2/2 on catching wild animals in the house and removing them in a humane manner.  I was tempted to snap this one’s neck and leave him on the porch as a warning to others, but that wouldn’t have gone over well.  He got the full corporate relocation package down to the creek with his partner in crime from the other night.

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12 minutes ago, conVINCEd said:

Just caught another one in the house.  Thought I had fixed the access point.  Apparently not.  Pro is coming out tomorrow, but I’m 2/2 on catching wild animals in the house and removing them in a humane manner.  I was tempted to snap this one’s neck and leave him on the porch as a warning to others, but that wouldn’t have gone over well.  He got the full corporate relocation package down to the creek with his partner in crime from the other night.

How do you know it wasn't the same possum?

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On 3/21/2022 at 10:49 PM, conVINCEd said:

I’ll put the full possum story together when I have some time.  It involves a painful childhood incident with a possum, a really freaked out wife, and a milf walking with a stroller who thought I was endangering her kids.  I took no offense btw.

Now I really want to hear the story. 

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1 hour ago, WhatTheBuck said:

Now I really want to hear the story. 

When I was a teenager, my grandparents would leave for Colorado when it got hot and return when football season started.  I mowed their yard once a week, and my mom and aunt would take turns dropping by their house every few days and bringing the mail inside and making sure everything was ok with the house.  The house was an old ranch built in the 70’s, and like a lot of houses from that era, it had a central courtyard, which they had enclosed to make it somewhat weatherproof. 

I come home one day and mom informed me that there was some sort of creature trapped in the courtyard when she went by earlier that day.  I was dispatched to deal with said creature.  Armed with a baseball bat, I entered the house.  What I encountered was the largest, nastiest looking possum I have ever seen in my life.  I had to cross the courtyard to open the gate and let it escape, and the possum was cutting me off every time I made a move for the gate.  There was no playing possum, this jumbo-sized possum was angry.  After what seemed like an hour, I fended off the hissing, spitting creature, opened the gate, and went back in the house.  I cracked a beer and waited for the possum to leave.  It finally wandered out, I closed the gate behind it, and went home.  As a result of that incident, I have a healthy disdain for all things possum.

Fast forward 30 or so years, and the other day I heard a blood-curdling scream come from the bathroom.  Before I get back there, the wife comes running out.  She had been peeing, looked to her left, and, in her words, a big fucking rat was staring at her.  This time, this much smaller possum actually played possum, I got some thick work gloves, and got the possum without incident.  Not wanting to release it in the backyard only to have a repeat offender on our hands, I drove down to the creek a few blocks from the house to let the thing loose.  Driving the car with a live animal in one hand is interesting, but it was a short drive and I managed.

There’s a small little playground by the road next to the creek.  Cute little kid and cuter mom (think blonde spinner) are doing mom/kid shit on the little playscape equipment.  Mom is looking at me trying to figure out what I am doing.  I tried to keep my distance, but at a point she could tell that I had some sort of creature in my hand.  Momma was not happy that whatever the hell she thought I was doing was happening near her kid, and let me know about it.  Understandable, so I wandered about 50 yards further than I intended to and set the creature free.  Came back home, went to Lowe’s, bought some chicken wire, and temporarily secured what appeared to be the point of entry in the soffit on the back of the house.  Missed most of the Duke/Sparty game as a result.

Around midnight last night, I went into the kitchen to get some water before going to bed.  I had a little buzz going, glanced up from my phone, and there is a possum on the floor eating a bag of popcorn it had taken from the pantry. This one was bigger than the last one, but nowhere near the size of the beast I tangled with as a Ute.  This one wanted to play hide and seek.  Thankfully the hall door to the bedrooms was closed, so no wife drama.  After chasing it across the front of the house for a few minutes, I finally got it cornered and it threw in the towel.  Back to the creek, and it was late, so thankfully no milf drama either.  Woke up this morning to discover that possums scoff at my attempt to prevent them from entering my house, as the chicken wire was peeled back and the hole in the soffit was bigger.  Critter catcher, who was conveniently booked after the first possum encounter, is coming by any minute, and after he does his thing I’m headed back to Lowe’s to get more supplies for a more permanent solution.

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3 hours ago, conVINCEd said:

When I was a teenager, my grandparents would leave for Colorado when it got hot and return when football season started.  I mowed their yard once a week, and my mom and aunt would take turns dropping by their house every few days and bringing the mail inside and making sure everything was ok with the house.  The house was an old ranch built in the 70’s, and like a lot of houses from that era, it had a central courtyard, which they had enclosed to make it somewhat weatherproof. 

I come home one day and mom informed me that there was some sort of creature trapped in the courtyard when she went by earlier that day.  I was dispatched to deal with said creature.  Armed with a baseball bat, I entered the house.  What I encountered was the largest, nastiest looking possum I have ever seen in my life.  I had to cross the courtyard to open the gate and let it escape, and the possum was cutting me off every time I made a move for the gate.  There was no playing possum, this jumbo-sized possum was angry.  After what seemed like an hour, I fended off the hissing, spitting creature, opened the gate, and went back in the house.  I cracked a beer and waited for the possum to leave.  It finally wandered out, I closed the gate behind it, and went home.  As a result of that incident, I have a healthy disdain for all things possum.

Fast forward 30 or so years, and the other day I heard a blood-curdling scream come from the bathroom.  Before I get back there, the wife comes running out.  She had been peeing, looked to her left, and, in her words, a big fucking rat was staring at her.  This time, this much smaller possum actually played possum, I got some thick work gloves, and got the possum without incident.  Not wanting to release it in the backyard only to have a repeat offender on our hands, I drove down to the creek a few blocks from the house to let the thing loose.  Driving the car with a live animal in one hand is interesting, but it was a short drive and I managed.

There’s a small little playground by the road next to the creek.  Cute little kid and cuter mom (think blonde spinner) are doing mom/kid shit on the little playscape equipment.  Mom is looking at me trying to figure out what I am doing.  I tried to keep my distance, but at a point she could tell that I had some sort of creature in my hand.  Momma was not happy that whatever the hell she thought I was doing was happening near her kid, and let me know about it.  Understandable, so I wandered about 50 yards further than I intended to and set the creature free.  Came back home, went to Lowe’s, bought some chicken wire, and temporarily secured what appeared to be the point of entry in the soffit on the back of the house.  Missed most of the Duke/Sparty game as a result.

Around midnight last night, I went into the kitchen to get some water before going to bed.  I had a little buzz going, glanced up from my phone, and there is a possum on the floor eating a bag of popcorn it had taken from the pantry. This one was bigger than the last one, but nowhere near the size of the beast I tangled with as a Ute.  This one wanted to play hide and seek.  Thankfully the hall door to the bedrooms was closed, so no wife drama.  After chasing it across the front of the house for a few minutes, I finally got it cornered and it threw in the towel.  Back to the creek, and it was late, so thankfully no milf drama either.  Woke up this morning to discover that possums scoff at my attempt to prevent them from entering my house, as the chicken wire was peeled back and the hole in the soffit was bigger.  Critter catcher, who was conveniently booked after the first possum encounter, is coming by any minute, and after he does his thing I’m headed back to Lowe’s to get more supplies for a more permanent solution.

 Bravo. Well done. Three points:

1) “Thankfully the hall door to the bedrooms was closed, so no wife drama.”  Incorrect. There was no immediate wife drama. But your wife’s long term reaction to the second possum will be even worse than the first one, mainly because she has lost all confidence in your ability to stop critters. She is going to see a critter in every moving shadow now, and wake you up in the middle of the night with every house creak. 
2) “Back to the creek, and it was late, so thankfully no milf drama either.”  See, this is where the story had significant potential. What surly wants is the milf drama, and the “it was late” was the natural bridge to the drama. Do better. 
3) A .22 will solve your possum problems. 

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4 hours ago, conVINCEd said:

When I was a teenager, my grandparents would leave for Colorado when it got hot and return when football season started.  I mowed their yard once a week, and my mom and aunt would take turns dropping by their house every few days and bringing the mail inside and making sure everything was ok with the house.  The house was an old ranch built in the 70’s, and like a lot of houses from that era, it had a central courtyard, which they had enclosed to make it somewhat weatherproof. 

I come home one day and mom informed me that there was some sort of creature trapped in the courtyard when she went by earlier that day.  I was dispatched to deal with said creature.  Armed with a baseball bat, I entered the house.  What I encountered was the largest, nastiest looking possum I have ever seen in my life.  I had to cross the courtyard to open the gate and let it escape, and the possum was cutting me off every time I made a move for the gate.  There was no playing possum, this jumbo-sized possum was angry.  After what seemed like an hour, I fended off the hissing, spitting creature, opened the gate, and went back in the house.  I cracked a beer and waited for the possum to leave.  It finally wandered out, I closed the gate behind it, and went home.  As a result of that incident, I have a healthy disdain for all things possum.

Fast forward 30 or so years, and the other day I heard a blood-curdling scream come from the bathroom.  Before I get back there, the wife comes running out.  She had been peeing, looked to her left, and, in her words, a big fucking rat was staring at her.  This time, this much smaller possum actually played possum, I got some thick work gloves, and got the possum without incident.  Not wanting to release it in the backyard only to have a repeat offender on our hands, I drove down to the creek a few blocks from the house to let the thing loose.  Driving the car with a live animal in one hand is interesting, but it was a short drive and I managed.

There’s a small little playground by the road next to the creek.  Cute little kid and cuter mom (think blonde spinner) are doing mom/kid shit on the little playscape equipment.  Mom is looking at me trying to figure out what I am doing.  I tried to keep my distance, but at a point she could tell that I had some sort of creature in my hand.  Momma was not happy that whatever the hell she thought I was doing was happening near her kid, and let me know about it.  Understandable, so I wandered about 50 yards further than I intended to and set the creature free.  Came back home, went to Lowe’s, bought some chicken wire, and temporarily secured what appeared to be the point of entry in the soffit on the back of the house.  Missed most of the Duke/Sparty game as a result.

Around midnight last night, I went into the kitchen to get some water before going to bed.  I had a little buzz going, glanced up from my phone, and there is a possum on the floor eating a bag of popcorn it had taken from the pantry. This one was bigger than the last one, but nowhere near the size of the beast I tangled with as a Ute.  This one wanted to play hide and seek.  Thankfully the hall door to the bedrooms was closed, so no wife drama.  After chasing it across the front of the house for a few minutes, I finally got it cornered and it threw in the towel.  Back to the creek, and it was late, so thankfully no milf drama either.  Woke up this morning to discover that possums scoff at my attempt to prevent them from entering my house, as the chicken wire was peeled back and the hole in the soffit was bigger.  Critter catcher, who was conveniently booked after the first possum encounter, is coming by any minute, and after he does his thing I’m headed back to Lowe’s to get more supplies for a more permanent solution.

I've heard a lot of stories about milfs, and yours was truly the shittiest one. I'm awarding you no points and may God have mercy on your soul.

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4 hours ago, conVINCEd said:

When I was a teenager, my grandparents would leave for Colorado when it got hot and return when football season started.  I mowed their yard once a week, and my mom and aunt would take turns dropping by their house every few days and bringing the mail inside and making sure everything was ok with the house.  The house was an old ranch built in the 70’s, and like a lot of houses from that era, it had a central courtyard, which they had enclosed to make it somewhat weatherproof. 

I come home one day and mom informed me that there was some sort of creature trapped in the courtyard when she went by earlier that day.  I was dispatched to deal with said creature.  Armed with a baseball bat, I entered the house.  What I encountered was the largest, nastiest looking possum I have ever seen in my life.  I had to cross the courtyard to open the gate and let it escape, and the possum was cutting me off every time I made a move for the gate.  There was no playing possum, this jumbo-sized possum was angry.  After what seemed like an hour, I fended off the hissing, spitting creature, opened the gate, and went back in the house.  I cracked a beer and waited for the possum to leave.  It finally wandered out, I closed the gate behind it, and went home.  As a result of that incident, I have a healthy disdain for all things possum.

Fast forward 30 or so years, and the other day I heard a blood-curdling scream come from the bathroom.  Before I get back there, the wife comes running out.  She had been peeing, looked to her left, and, in her words, a big fucking rat was staring at her.  This time, this much smaller possum actually played possum, I got some thick work gloves, and got the possum without incident.  Not wanting to release it in the backyard only to have a repeat offender on our hands, I drove down to the creek a few blocks from the house to let the thing loose.  Driving the car with a live animal in one hand is interesting, but it was a short drive and I managed.

There’s a small little playground by the road next to the creek.  Cute little kid and cuter mom (think blonde spinner) are doing mom/kid shit on the little playscape equipment.  Mom is looking at me trying to figure out what I am doing.  I tried to keep my distance, but at a point she could tell that I had some sort of creature in my hand.  Momma was not happy that whatever the hell she thought I was doing was happening near her kid, and let me know about it.  Understandable, so I wandered about 50 yards further than I intended to and set the creature free.  Came back home, went to Lowe’s, bought some chicken wire, and temporarily secured what appeared to be the point of entry in the soffit on the back of the house.  Missed most of the Duke/Sparty game as a result.

Around midnight last night, I went into the kitchen to get some water before going to bed.  I had a little buzz going, glanced up from my phone, and there is a possum on the floor eating a bag of popcorn it had taken from the pantry. This one was bigger than the last one, but nowhere near the size of the beast I tangled with as a Ute.  This one wanted to play hide and seek.  Thankfully the hall door to the bedrooms was closed, so no wife drama.  After chasing it across the front of the house for a few minutes, I finally got it cornered and it threw in the towel.  Back to the creek, and it was late, so thankfully no milf drama either.  Woke up this morning to discover that possums scoff at my attempt to prevent them from entering my house, as the chicken wire was peeled back and the hole in the soffit was bigger.  Critter catcher, who was conveniently booked after the first possum encounter, is coming by any minute, and after he does his thing I’m headed back to Lowe’s to get more supplies for a more permanent solution.

I think my favorite part of this story is conVINCEd the assumed teenager pounding his grandparent's beer whilst on possum detail.

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40 minutes ago, nnm said:

 Bravo. Well done. Three points:

1) “Thankfully the hall door to the bedrooms was closed, so no wife drama.”  Incorrect. There was no immediate wife drama. But your wife’s long term reaction to the second possum will be even worse than the first one, mainly because she has lost all confidence in your ability to stop critters. She is going to see a critter in every moving shadow now, and wake you up in the middle of the night with every house creak. 
2) “Back to the creek, and it was late, so thankfully no milf drama either.”  See, this is where the story had significant potential. What surly wants is the milf drama, and the “it was late” was the natural bridge to the drama. Do better. 
3) A .22 will solve your possum problems. 

The wife is blissfully unaware of the second possum as she was already asleep last night.  The critter catcher people are here addressing the problem, so I saw no reason to throw gasoline on the fire by mentioning the second possum as we passed each other this morning on her way out the door.  If I have to relocate any more rodents I will try and improve the milf portion.

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9 hours ago, Al_4_ISU said:

I think my favorite part of this story is conVINCEd the assumed teenager pounding his grandparent's beer whilst on possum detail.

I had one and sipped it slowly while waiting for the possum to exit stage right.  I was 16 or 17 at the time.  I also took the bottle with me and deposited it in the trash can at the first convenience store I encountered as to leave no evidence.

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On 3/23/2022 at 12:06 AM, conVINCEd said:

Just caught another one in the house.  Thought I had fixed the access point.  Apparently not.  Pro is coming out tomorrow, but I’m 2/2 on catching wild animals in the house and removing them in a humane manner.  I was tempted to snap this one’s neck and leave him on the porch as a warning to others, but that wouldn’t have gone over well.  He got the full corporate relocation package down to the creek with his partner in crime from the other night.

 

probably just caught the same one again.

 

edit after re-reading story: Check that. First one was probably a young'un. Second (bigger) was mama. Expect more young'uns.

 

 

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On 3/16/2022 at 11:15 PM, Superhero said:

My friends who BEGGED the soccer coaches so their son can play on the same team as my son.

At the “evaluation” practice (where they evaluate the kids, and split them evenly into teams so none are dominant), my boy scored 4 goals. Their kid spent the first 10 minutes kicking towards his own goal even though the coach kept yelling at him to go the other way. 
 

🤬
 

They said their son would “enjoy”’ soccer more if he played with mine. My kid takes soccer pretty seriously. The other boy has ADHD and a mom that gives him cookies before practice. FML. 

So the soccer organization (Liverpool) is really disorganized; and the other boy got left off the initial rosters altogether.

Then he got added to our team roster. Fuckin’ hell. But even though his name is still on the roster, he’s not at our practices and is playing in “premier” group. What the hell?

Long story short. He’s not on my boy’s team. And that’s a hell yeah!

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My dogs chased a possum into the house through the dog door.  Possum played possum. Dogs are sniffing it, pushing it around, even picked it up.  My wife is sure they killed it.  I offered to bet it was still alive.  She wisely declined the bet.  Picked it up by the tail and took it out in front yard.  Went back in and looked out the window.  Thirty seconds after the door closed it go up and waddled off.

Wife and daughters were traumatized.

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On 3/23/2022 at 10:57 AM, conVINCEd said:

When I was a teenager, my grandparents would leave for Colorado when it got hot and return when football season started.  I mowed their yard once a week, and my mom and aunt would take turns dropping by their house every few days and bringing the mail inside and making sure everything was ok with the house.  The house was an old ranch built in the 70’s, and like a lot of houses from that era, it had a central courtyard, which they had enclosed to make it somewhat weatherproof. 

I come home one day and mom informed me that there was some sort of creature trapped in the courtyard when she went by earlier that day.  I was dispatched to deal with said creature.  Armed with a baseball bat, I entered the house.  What I encountered was the largest, nastiest looking possum I have ever seen in my life.  I had to cross the courtyard to open the gate and let it escape, and the possum was cutting me off every time I made a move for the gate.  There was no playing possum, this jumbo-sized possum was angry.  After what seemed like an hour, I fended off the hissing, spitting creature, opened the gate, and went back in the house.  I cracked a beer and waited for the possum to leave.  It finally wandered out, I closed the gate behind it, and went home.  As a result of that incident, I have a healthy disdain for all things possum.

Fast forward 30 or so years, and the other day I heard a blood-curdling scream come from the bathroom.  Before I get back there, the wife comes running out.  She had been peeing, looked to her left, and, in her words, a big fucking rat was staring at her.  This time, this much smaller possum actually played possum, I got some thick work gloves, and got the possum without incident.  Not wanting to release it in the backyard only to have a repeat offender on our hands, I drove down to the creek a few blocks from the house to let the thing loose.  Driving the car with a live animal in one hand is interesting, but it was a short drive and I managed.

There’s a small little playground by the road next to the creek.  Cute little kid and cuter mom (think blonde spinner) are doing mom/kid shit on the little playscape equipment.  Mom is looking at me trying to figure out what I am doing.  I tried to keep my distance, but at a point she could tell that I had some sort of creature in my hand.  Momma was not happy that whatever the hell she thought I was doing was happening near her kid, and let me know about it.  Understandable, so I wandered about 50 yards further than I intended to and set the creature free.  Came back home, went to Lowe’s, bought some chicken wire, and temporarily secured what appeared to be the point of entry in the soffit on the back of the house.  Missed most of the Duke/Sparty game as a result.

Around midnight last night, I went into the kitchen to get some water before going to bed.  I had a little buzz going, glanced up from my phone, and there is a possum on the floor eating a bag of popcorn it had taken from the pantry. This one was bigger than the last one, but nowhere near the size of the beast I tangled with as a Ute.  This one wanted to play hide and seek.  Thankfully the hall door to the bedrooms was closed, so no wife drama.  After chasing it across the front of the house for a few minutes, I finally got it cornered and it threw in the towel.  Back to the creek, and it was late, so thankfully no milf drama either.  Woke up this morning to discover that possums scoff at my attempt to prevent them from entering my house, as the chicken wire was peeled back and the hole in the soffit was bigger.  Critter catcher, who was conveniently booked after the first possum encounter, is coming by any minute, and after he does his thing I’m headed back to Lowe’s to get more supplies for a more permanent solution.

That. Was. AWESOME. 

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I had a serious incident this morning.

first off I am ok. I was a little shaken up this morning as I was robbed at the shell gas station in Round Rock. 

. After my hands stopped trembling I managed to call the police. They were quick to respond and calmed me down. My money is all gone. The police asked me if I knew who did it. I said yes...

It was pump number 3.

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You fucking asshole.  I read the first half of that worried about you, offering to come help you out in some way.  Apparently your vision break from this site doesn't inhibit your shitty sense of humor.  Dammit man, I was honestly worried about you and I've never met you.  I was gonna offer to find the guy before the cops did using my guys.  

Glad you're okay, buttmuch.  Spend the weekend crying Lobo...

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10 hours ago, Armybrat said:

I had a serious incident this morning.

first off I am ok. I was a little shaken up this morning as I was robbed at the shell gas station in Round Rock. 

. After my hands stopped trembling I managed to call the police. They were quick to respond and calmed me down. My money is all gone. The police asked me if I knew who did it. I said yes...

It was pump number 3.

 

Fuck You

damnit brat you had me going

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18 hours ago, Armybrat said:

I had a serious incident this morning.

first off I am ok. I was a little shaken up this morning as I was robbed at the shell gas station in Round Rock. 

. After my hands stopped trembling I managed to call the police. They were quick to respond and calmed me down. My money is all gone. The police asked me if I knew who did it. I said yes...

It was pump number 3.

You should credit Ice T for that from 2 days ago 

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You married a 7 year old? 

I think so. The only logic for this is you’re eating Fruity Pebbles and you only have about 10 seconds before it becomes the texture of vomit. You can’t put the milk away in the fridge fast enough before this happens. Kid logic would have you pouring the milk and putting it away before adding the cereal to avoid this.

I’ve thought too much about this.
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15 minutes ago, CooterBrown said:


I think so. The only logic for this is you’re eating Fruity Pebbles and you only have about 10 seconds before it becomes the texture of vomit. You can’t put the milk away in the fridge fast enough before this happens. Kid logic would have you pouring the milk and putting it away before adding the cereal to avoid this.

I’ve thought too much about this.

That’s ridiculous. If you’re arguing that you’re wasting precious time putting the milk carton back in the fridge then you’re basically arguing that you want three bites of crunchy Fruity Pebbles instead of two. Better make sure you pour your cereal at the table and not the counter so you don’t waste a second moving it from one place to the other. And the milk would survive outside the fridge for the few minutes it takes to eat a bowl of Fruity Pebbles.

Oh, I’ve thought about this too. Let’s stick with the Fruity Pebbles paradigm. How much milk does she pour in the bowl? Fruity Pebbles float. How does she manage cereal-to-milk ratio when the Pebbles all sit on top of the milk? Do they spill off the side of the bowl or is she not using enough milk? Does she wind up adding more milk later? Or more Pebbles?

What if it’s not Fruity Pebbles but it’s Cheerios and she’s adding strawberries and sugar? How would that work? And where did she learn this milk first practice in the first place?

She must be hot as hell because her approach to cereal is an abomination. 

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Walk up to counter at oil change place that closes at 7PM.  It is 6:22PM with nobody in line and nobody in the bays.

"Can I get an oil change?"

"It's getting close to closing..."

" Well, i know it's 7 and nobody is ahead of me."

" The guys are cleaning the bays"

"Do you close at 7 or 6?  All I need is an answer, yes or no."

" We'll do it."

 

Beard of Zeus.  Sorry to impose on you, motherfucker...  Then when I check out, it's like the toughest ordeal of their day.

I know the owner.  Debating whether to write it off as a bad day for his crew or let him know they were surly AF...  I didn't say shit about knowing him during the exchange because that is bullshit, IMHO.

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1 hour ago, WhatTheBuck said:

That’s ridiculous. If you’re arguing that you’re wasting precious time putting the milk carton back in the fridge then you’re basically arguing that you want three bites of crunchy Fruity Pebbles instead of two. Better make sure you pour your cereal at the table and not the counter so you don’t waste a second moving it from one place to the other. And the milk would survive outside the fridge for the few minutes it takes to eat a bowl of Fruity Pebbles.

Oh, I’ve thought about this too. Let’s stick with the Fruity Pebbles paradigm. How much milk does she pour in the bowl? Fruity Pebbles float. How does she manage cereal-to-milk ratio when the Pebbles all sit on top of the milk? Do they spill off the side of the bowl or is she not using enough milk? Does she wind up adding more milk later? Or more Pebbles?

What if it’s not Fruity Pebbles but it’s Cheerios and she’s adding strawberries and sugar? How would that work? And where did she learn this milk first practice in the first place?

She must be hot as hell because her approach to cereal is an abomination. 

Strawberries?  Bananas or GTFO.

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Walk up to counter at oil change place that closes at 7PM.  It is 6:22PM with nobody in line and nobody in the bays.
"Can I get an oil change?"
"It's getting close to closing..."
" Well, i know it's 7 and nobody is ahead of me."
" The guys are cleaning the bays"
"Do you close at 7 or 6?  All I need is an answer, yes or no."
" We'll do it."
 
Beard of Zeus.  Sorry to impose on you, motherfucker...  Then when I check out, it's like the toughest ordeal of their day.
I know the owner.  Debating whether to write it off as a bad day for his crew or let him know they were surly AF...  I didn't say shit about knowing him during the exchange because that is bullshit, IMHO.

Hopefully they tightened that oil pan screw.
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