Highway to the Danger Zone....

Yeah I'm a TopGun fan, wanna fight about it? Lol.

So at what point did it make sense to stick shit all over one's car? I understand I'm uber late to rant on this, but a truck a saw yesterday kinda made my mind go boom on the subject.

The guy had one of those chrome stick on vents....on the rear quarter panel of his truck.

Read that again, let it set in. Yeah, burns doesn't it?

I understand that alot of people want to make our lower class cars look better, and perhaps shine em up a bit....but how about getting it repainted or perhaps getting the rot holes in it fixed?

And at what fucking point doesn't one of the person's say "um...your car looks fucking retarded"? I understand to each their own, but this is one thing that I believe doesn't fall under that. Well that, wings, hood scoops, chrome hubcaps, "Hi Hater" stickers, clear tail lights, Sears chrome wheels, racing stripes on non muscle cars....

......Whoops! Caught myself there. You get the point. I believe that while "to each their own" is a great mantra, and I agree with it....."dude that looks like shit" is better.

So do the world a favor: If your friend does something stupid to his/her car...FUCKING TELL THEM and spare the world another visual atrocity to look at, especially those of us who have long commutes and get stuck seeing it EVERY DAY.

Ps.: Girls: There are other colors than pink to accent your god damned car with. Just saying.

PPs.: Guys: Stop putting exhausts and racing stripes on early 90s cars, and stop using white accents on Teal cars. Just paint the fucking car a different color.

A Respite, One for the Road.

It finally happened. 10 years, 4 dealerships later. I give up.

I am SICK of being treated like nothing more than an animal or an underling. The way most techs are treated at dealerships is fucking SICKENING. Its not even about fixing cars anymore, its all about numbers and kissing ass.

The other day, our arrogant coward of a GM decided he would get in my face (well....given my height and his diminutive stature, my chest lol) to accost me for speaking too loud in an angry tone to my boss.

Now while he had every right to do as such, since customers could hear me, he had to right to be right in my face, nor to try and stare me down as if I am some sort of bitch.

That, plus my boss writing me up for stupid reasons (texting in the shop, not writing up headgaskets ON ONE CAR) just pushed me over the edge. The whole reason for me being in my boss' office? I called in on the last day of the month. Now anyone who works in a commercial business KNOWS the importance of the end of the month: its the last day to get....you guessed it, NUMBERS!

Why did I call out? Oh no reason, just that I COULDN'T GET OUT OF FUCKING BED BECAUSE OF A SPINAL INJURY.

So what does he say? And I quote: "You know Joe, in the 21 years I've had two hemorraged discs in my back, I never called in once. You have no excuse.".

Yep. This is the same motherfucker who relates EVERYTHING to his "20 years of experience" wrenching.

He then proceeded to ask me when I was going to get better, like I was going to clap my hands right then and go POOF MOTHAFUCKAH! IM BACK BITCH!

Oh but that wasn't enough, I agreed that I needed to stop texting in the shop, and that I needed to get my back looked at again, he proceeds to tell me I'm nothing more than a glorified lube tech.

That was it. No more. I have dealt with excrutiating pain for months now, I havent missed a day of work in THREE MONTHS, which is well before I really hurt myself, and even though I'm doing A+ tech level work, he calls me that? Nope, no thanks, NO SALE ASSHOLE.

So I am done. With that place, with this industry. I will sooner go work 1000000 hours in a convenience store, then be miserable and have my hobby ruined any further.

I have no job lined up but I truly and honestly do not care. I am done being walked all over for 14.50 an hour. I am bigger, stronger, and a fuckofalot meaner when I need to be than that coward of a GM and the fuckface of a manager I have, and will not force myself to have to fight the urge to jump over their desk and break their shit spewing jaw.

Its not just me either. They treat everyone except for the golden boy in sales and Arty (the shop foreman who is actually really awesome) like shit. Beth can back me up on that.

I was once a boy who followed his passion, nievely thinking it was an honest industry and was eager to make his way to the top of it. Now I am a man who has been jaded and dragged through the mud by something he once held in such high regard.

No longer. I will go back to having it be a hobby. At least that way its somewhat pure.

Your Attitude is Welcome Welcome.

Again, ages since I've touched this blog. Whatever.

I've almost come to the point where I would just rather keep everything in my head than post it here and/or my other blog, as I don't seem to trust my friends like I once did. I can't seem to say anything without being made fun of or trolled. Hell I probably won't even actually post this link to Facebook.

Whatever. Moving on.

You ever have someone whom which you held in high regard (possibly too high of a regard?) in a conversation say something that just.....burns? And I don't mean the typical dig or insult, I mean as if you were talking about something very important and that you haven't talked to anyone else about and they drop some sort of bomb on you? Or they try to tell you that what you said was a lie?

A couple months ago, I had that occur. I unfortunately cannot get into detail about it, but one of the final lines from the other party pretty much shattered my heart. I mean, who the fuck are they to question what the fuck my actual intentions were, or what the fuck I actually meant?

It just.....burns. I don't open up that much to too many people (and rightfully so, if my previous experiences with people is anything to go by), so for someone like that to say that they said just pretty much fucking murdered me inside. I'm sure I'll get over it, but fuck it won't be easy.

Again, whatever. Just something echoing in my head for awhile I guess.

The other thing that seems to piss in my Cheerios, is when someone question how much effort you actually put into something.

This also was said a couple months ago, but fuck me it just won't go away.

Let's face it, I'm physically (and mentally) beat up. I'm wearing a wrist brace because of a tear, and have premature arthritis in both wrists. I've already had one knee fixed, my lower back is in a constant state of pain, and more and more frequently my ankle is just......fucked. So when I push myself as hard as I do, even though my body won't really let me, and someone says "oh well he just shows up to have fun, he doesn't really try THAT hard" that just irks the fuck out of me. I should've just said something right there on the spot, but if I recall correctly, we were at a party, and it would've been insanely rude to cause a scene.

I know I'm falling the fuck apart, but shit, the day I "don't try" is the day you can put me in the fucking ground.

I just don't know anymore. Something has got to give, right? My fucking head is beginning to hurt.

A Diamond in the Rough....A Boy and His Car Part Deux.

I slowly made my way down the hill and to the barn where she's been sitting. I gently removed her cover, making sure not to catch it on the mirror or any of the trim....

...And there she was. The small bit of light shining into the barn caught the British Racing Green surface of her rear quarter, amplifying the beauty of her curves. Another bit of light shone down upon the rust taking residence upon the cowl.

She almost lived tonight. We are so close to her resuscitation. For 20 seconds, she proved she deserves a second chance, something the previous two owners failed to realize.

But she isn't theirs anymore, she's all mine.

The night and dark finally took over, and I had to cover her back up. I will return here, I will make this work. She will roar to life, and we will terrorize the streets together.

She's not perfect. But then again neither am I. That, is what makes it work. My diamond in the rough, my Datsun Z.

A Moment In Passing....A Boy and His Car.

I walked out of the garage, and our eyes met. She had been sitting there all week, watching galavant around town with her, and I could feel the jealousy and the sense of neglect. I slowly approached her, apologizing for the lack of time we've spent together recently, and gently opened her up.

I slid inside slowly, inserted the key, and turned it.

She cranked, sputtered, then rumbled to life. I had missed her honestly, but recent events had necessitated her sitting alone for awhile.

I watched her warm up, then slowly moved her to the intersection. The light turned green and we carried on through town. I waited till no one was around, and finally put my foot down. There it was. The roar, the spool, and acceleration. Euphoric. I remembered why when I first laid eyes on her I HAD to have her.

We continued through downtown, if only so I could listen to her amazing rumble reverberate off of all the old brick buildings....The sound....it never gets old.

Finally, I had to bring her back. I hope she understands that it isn't by choice the other one is around, but out of necessity. I park, shut her down and remove the key, slide out and gently close the door. I run my hand gently down her rear quarter, admiring her lines, then turn and walk away. She and I both knew I'd be back, regardless of how long it took me.

Yeah, she's fuckin awesome. I can't wait for the next ride, and neither can she.

You're Biting Your Own Fucking Neck.

Wow. Its been awhile. No time for bullshit, so lets dive right into the cesspool.

People please, stop telling other people things over and over, when in reality you are telling them to yourself. I understand people disagree with you and that shakes your confidence in your decision, but going on and on about it just shows how little confidence you have in yourself. Someone disagreed with you, we get it. You apparently were never 100% on it in the first place if you have to keep discussing it.

Make your fucking bed, and take a god damned nap in it.

People please, stop using other people as your safety net when your fucking joke of a love life crumbles to ashes every 6 months to a year. You want nothing to do with us when you have a man/woman in your life, but the second you get bored with them and walk away from it, you're right the fuck back like you were never a ghost.

Actually while we're on that subject.....

When someone in the group FINALLY calls you out on your bullshit ghosting habits, don't take to Facebook and try to pawn it off as the person wanting your world to revolve around them. You're lying to your own immature delusional ass, as well as trying to bullshit everyone who reads your status into pitying you. Just because you can't see the brick wall you keep running into doesn't mean it isn't there. Don't be pissed when someone points out the obstacles you can't bring yourself to fucking deal with. I assure you, you have done nothing important enough that has affected me in a way where I would put you at the center of my world.....and frankly I don't think my attention span (comparable to a crack head's) would allow me to focus on you for too long anyway.

What else?

Oh yeah. People please stop lighting London on fire. Its not going to solve anything, and I happen to like London. Alot.

Furthermore....

You're, your.....There, Their, Theyre.....Were, We're. Please learn the difference. Oh and stop using apostrophe S to pluralize EVERYTHING. Sheesh.

Finally....

I'm not perfect. If the people read this that it is directed at, don't respond to it with the classic "Oh who is he to fucking talk? Like he's so perfect, he's this, he's that, he's done this and that, he has this and that issue", because I am well the fuck aware I am a walking ball of chaos/ignorance/stubbornness/fuckery. I never claimed to be perfect. People constantly call me out on some of my fuck ups, so I'm just passing it on to try and help others. Seriously. I know its hard to believe, but I really am trying to help. I know its probably not the best way, but you won't listen or respond to any other way.

Oh and I bet a psychologist would have a fucking FIELD DAY with me and what goes on in my cavernous cranium.

Am I....

It could be...

It comes and it goes….The rage, the anger, the despair….I only seek to control it, and it seems to be the fire that lights my way….Do I ask for help, or let it grab the wheel?