Monthly Archives: January 2008

The Attack of the Automated Bathroom Thingees

What the fuck is up with all the damn automated thingees in the bathroom.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand there are some nasty germs out there these days.  Germs that have been raised to be tough.  Germs that were raised by their mommy and daddy germs on the best of antibiotics.  Germs so tough that they eat antibiotics that were designed to kill them for lunch and poop out daisy’s and lollipops.  These are nasty fucking germs.

The best way to keep the germs away is to wash your hands.  Wash them often and don’t touch anything.  Plus – don’t get sick – stay outta the hospitals.

So here I was today, on the road and I stop into this quaint roadside diner for breakfast. 

I have a great breakfast with a great cup of coffee and before leaving I decide to use the restroom.

Now you have to understand.  This is a little mom and pop operation with doodads on the walls (not sure what the fuck a doodad is but it sounds cute).

I go into the bathroom and I am immediately transported to the starship enterprise.

There’s an automatic toilet seat cover dispenser, an automatic urinal flusher, an automatic hand towel dispenser, an automatic hand-soap dispenser and an automatic faucet to dispense water.

Hmmmm, where’s the automatic wiper of my ass thing?  Just kidding….

So, I stand there using the urinal as a guy would do when all of a sudden in the middle of my pee the fucking thing starts to flush.  Flush all over the front of my pants.  What the fuck Mr. Spock this sucks!

So I finish up and go over to wash my hands – gotta keep the germs away….

I put my hand under the soap dispenser – nothing happens.  Hmmmm.  I do it again.  Nothing – where the fuck is Mr. Scott when you need him.

I then put my hand under the faucet and the soap dispenser discharges soap onto the edge of the sink.  Ugghhhh

I put my hand under the soap dispenser and the faucet turns on.

You gotta be fucking kidding me – where is the damn camera this can’t be real.  “Hey Captain Kirk – fix your fucking ship,” I say to myself.

Okay, I get some soap and then some water and now it’s time to dry my hands.

I wave my hand in front of the little red dot on the hand towel dispenser and nothing happens.  Over and over I wave my hand over the little red dot and not a fucking thing happens.  Ughhh.

Okay, I am pissed.  Fuck it, I reach over and grab some toilet paper and dry my hands.  As I walk outta the bathroom I hear the hand towel machine starting to spit out hand towels like one of those cartoon ticker tape machines. 

I look back and say fuck it.

I shut off the light and shut the door.  Immediately I am transported back to ma and pa’s happy roadside diner and all is good.


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$5K bar tabs and you don’t say you love me….

The Gore Effect has been evident this week in New England with the daily temperatures skyrocketing to new record highs (67 in Boston) while the stock markets continue to reel from the deal-book greed and petroleum gluttony. 

It’s a great time to be alive.

Jetting about New England this week in maybe the worst rental car I’ve ever been in (Chevy Impala) no wonder Toyota is closing in quickly.  The best thing GM has going for them is the fact that many Toyota’s are now made in the USA (Tundra) so we’ll see a decline in quality causing Toyota to feel the same wrath that has negatively impacted GM and Ford…Just for giggles type “Toyota Tundra Issues” into a search engine….have fun….

Enough of that crap….

Depressing the accelerator to the floor in the rental car named for a medium sized African antelope I increase my speed to warp 17.3 and zip across Nude Hampster’s route 101.  The blur of brown and gray snow banks dying from the Gore global warming is depressing and then I notice color.  Yep, there in the din of gray and brown are bits of blue and red.  “Hmmmm, what the heck is that,” I think to myself.

Stepping off the accelerator I slow down to warp 3.2 hoping to focus on the dying banks of snow on the side of the road and figure out what is the source of the color.  Then, with no warning I am struck with a feeling of sadness for Nude hampster.  There lying on either side of the road, like used condoms, were miles and miles of campaign signs for every damn candidate that was entered in the primary. 

They came, they used Nude hampster and now they’re gone.  They had their fun, they spent their money and for a few minutes they even said nice things to Nude Hampster.  Poor, delusional Nude Hampster.  Like they really matter.

They’re all gone.  Like a one night stand.  Off to bigger conquests.  Who says size doesn’t matter!  It’s always about the conquests with these people……more delegates, new stories, more waffling, lots of chanting and a ton of drinking.  I’d love to see the candidates entertainment budgets….I am sooooo jealous. 

The only thing Nude Hampster has to show for a night of national attention are four figure bar bills  and piles of campaign signs littering the sides of the roads.

Who the fuck picks up the damn things?  I wonder how much that costs?  Think any of them were made from recycled paper?  I gotta get outta here….

The four figure bar tab is real – I was at a local establishment last night that was inundated with Obama folks and per the bartender they had a $5k budget for the night.  God Fucking Bless America!!!  FYI – The Obama folks are habitual chanters….ughhh.

Here’s the deal – anyone that can pass off a $5k bar tab as a campaign expense gets my vote!

Pressing the accelerator back down, the medium sized African antelope began to lope ahead towards warp factor 17.3 and soon the dying snowbanks return to a blur of grey, brown, blue and red.  Ah, peace. 

At warp 17.3 my conscious thought becomes occupied with navigating the piece of crap, Zulu named, tin box down the road.  This leaves my subconscious free to explore those little used recesses of my brain – always a dangerous thing.   It was then that I had an Epiphany…..

Political Pollsters and Meteorologists are the same people.  Neither knows what the fuck is really going to happen and are not held accountable when they get everything wrong.  I need to get me one of those jobs….

Hey Barack, can you buy me a round?


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