Bad Words

Let's cut right to the chase: I think the idea of "bad words" is bullshit. There are certainly plenty of parents that would whole-heartedly disagree with me, and I just couldn't care less.

Here's the deal. The idea that certain words are inherently bad is just idiotic. It means we've arbitrarily given this little collection of letters some mystical power over us. Sure, words are used to communicate, and sometimes we want to illicit a powerful response in our audience, so word selection is key. But context is everything. And it's easier to just tell your children that "shit" is a "bad word" than it is to explain when it might be acceptable to use the word and when it is most certainly not.

"But, if my kids just don't use those words, then they won't make a mistake and use them in the wrong place. I win!" Yeah, and you could probably build a house using a rubber mallet and a garden trowel, too, but that sounds like a really shitty idea. Words are tools; sure, you can get an idea across using a limited subset of words, but why? Ask an experienced engine builder to set you up with a racing engine, but tell him he can only use that cheap Stanley toolset you've got under the sink and see how quickly he tells you to go fuck yourself. And don't even get me started on the "I limit my vocabulary so I don't have to think hard" idea. It's not hard.

We even make up little names for these words, just so we don't have to say them. As if that makes it better. "Hey, don't say 'fuck'...you'll lend it power. If enough people say it, it will rise up and take over the world." No, let's call it the "f-bomb" instead. Because that makes sense. "Don't say the 'n-word' or the almighty Zeus will shoot a lightning bolt up your ass."

The only power any given individual word has over you is the power you give it.

Public Bathroom Etiquette #4

Little fact of life: most public bathroom doors don't have windows. I'm not complaining. We all work with a guy who apparently has the worst digestive tract in the animal kingdom who goes in there once a day to make a symphony of ass noises and exercise his explosive shit nozzle. Nobody wants to see/hear/smell that...especially from outside.

 

Anyway, there's an unwritten code of conduct one must uphold when faced with a door that doesn't have a window. It's simple...very much like most of the people who fail to grasp the concept. Here it is, and I'm gonna lay it out with as few syllables as I can: easy with the door.

 

I don't know if you used to clear rooms on a fucking SWAT team, or maybe you've lived through some urban guerrilla warfare shit that would make most men lay in a fetal position in the corner for the rest of their lives. Whatever your excuse, just stop. The bathroom ain't a place to do battle, and nobody gives a shit about your grand entrance. Ease the door open; almost as if you can't see through it and there just might be somebody on the other side.

The Layperson's Guide to Being an Asshole

Next time you're out driving, take a look around you. Is it

a) raining?

b) snowing?

c) precipitating anything?

d) dark?

e) almost dark?

f) that weird thing where you wouldn't say it's dark or almost dark, but you definitely can't see well?

 

If you answered yes to any of those questions, and you don't have your headlights on, you're an asshole.

 

Now before anybody gets their panties all in a bunch, let me caveat this. I'm all for using common sense when it comes to turning on your headlights. There's just one little problem: the vast majority of people don't have any common sense.

When in doubt, turn on your headlights. If you got offended by this post, just think: you are the reason cars come from the manufacturer with daytime running lights.

NOTE: This post was written while under the influence of a rage induced by coming up on somebody in the left lane of an interstate doing 57 in a 65, at 5:10 in the morning (at which point, it is fucking dark, btw) with no lights. None. Did I mention it was sprinkling? Yeah...don't be that guy.

Mushroom cloud layin' motherfucker

Can I do that? Can I title my post with a quote from a movie without some litigious clairvoyant somewhere going apeshit on me?

 

Sorry, that's the start of a totally different blog post. This one is about rage. I have some triggers that put me in a strange state. You know the one: tunnel vision, visibly shaking, furious, righteous rage. Here's the one that happens most, and is the easiest to avoid...

 

The other day I'm cruising home from work on a controlled access highway doing 60+ mph, when this jackass uses one of those little dirt cut-throughs to pull a U-turn. This may or may not be legal, depending on local laws, but that's not the issue. Shit happens. Sometimes you got to turn around. I understand.

 

But this fucker pulls out onto the road with less than 30 yards from me to him. Like, if you were going to measure it, it would be about this long: "Oh shit, I'm gonna..." <KABOOM>

All right...so let's give this guy the benefit of the doubt, right? Sure, he almost caused a major accident. Luckily, I knew there were no other cars beside me, so I was able to switch lanes and avoid him. (Which begs the question: if there were no other cars beside me, why the fuck did he pull out in front of me in particular? But I digress...) Maybe he just didn't see me. Maybe he did, but was in a hurry. Whatever. In any case, I give him the "watch where you're going, you almost killed me" honk as I narrowly avoid his vehicle.

 

And he honks back and flips me off.

 

There it is, folks. There's the rub. And I gotta say, if I didn't have a family who would wonder why I hadn't been home for 20 years to life, it almost would have been worth it to snuff this guy out. I wasn't in the red. I didn't flail around, arms out the window, yelling and screaming. Simply honked to let this guy know that he had almost fucked up both of our days. But no, fuck constructive criticism. He put me in the red. I'd love to talk to assholes like that as a police officer.

 

Bet he was on his cell phone...

Public Bathroom Etiquette #3

This one is mostly just my opinion, and pretty much goes for any situation; not just the bathroom.

 

My feeling is pretty much that two or more men should not be talking if one or more of them has his hand on his dick. This is not some universal theorem of life, and I'm sure there are exceptions, but it's generally safe to assume I feel this way.

 

I approach the bathroom almost like I'm walking through an unsafe neighborhood late at night: eyes down, don't attract attention, and get out of there as fast as possible. Chances are, even if I know you well, I won't acknowledge you in a bathroom.

 

On the other hand, there are plenty of guys out there who are perfectly happy talking to you about anything while standing at a urinal. Hell, I've had friends talk to me from a stall. Yeah, I can't hear you, because I left when you started being fucking weird.

 

Clearly, this is just a personal preference thing, but I wanted to put it out there. So, the next time you're chatting someone up in the shitter and they look uncomfortable as hell, just be sensitive to the fact that they might not like to hold conversations in places where random people poop.

Over-talkers

Humans classify things. We excel at it. We like to take all of our stimuli and file it away in a familiar 'bucket' of like things.

 

Today's post is about one of my little buckets. I call this class of people over-talkers, and it's quite possible you've run into one in the wild. But, in case you haven't, let me walk you through the common characteristics and traits so you'll be able to classify them properly if you ever meet one.

 

Your conversation will start out quite normally. It seems as though you're talking to a normal person. However, at some point in the conversation the over-talker either has a strong opinion about something, has something they deem extremely important to share, or you just inadvertently talked shit about their favorite Pokemon (or Nascar driver, or football player, or whatever-the-fuck that they care about). At this point, the conversation takes a weird turn, because the over-talker now cannot be stopped.

 

They continue talking, even though words are currently coming out of your mouth. As if in answer to this weird turn of events, they up the volume and intensity of the words falling out of their mouth.

 

And before you suggest that this situation is pretty normal in a debate, here's the curveball: the over-talker does this even in normal conversations. That's what sets them apart. What are you talking about? The drive in to work? Yep, they'll talk over you. What you had for breakfast? Yep, they'll talk over that to. Something else en-YES, THEY'LL TALK OVER YOU BECAUSE FUCK YOU MAJOR IMPORTANT SHIT HERE.

 

For fun, you can play little games, just to see what level they're on. Like, are they a newb over-talker just trying it out, or are they a hard-core level 90 over-talking warlord? For example, without raising your voice or appearing inconvenienced at all, just keep talking. It's fucking hilarious.

Vultures

You've seen them. They follow you on your way out to the parking lot, just itching for that spot. There must be some prize for parking twenty feet closer to the door. And they wait on you...

 

Just park, dammit. I refuse to change my routine just because you are (im)patiently waiting for me to get out of this spot. When I get to my car after work in the afternoon, I'm certainly ready to go home. However, I still have my little ritual: I start the car, remove the sun shade, get situated and buckled up, and text my wife that I'm on my way. The whole process takes probably no more than 60 seconds, which is fine for me. But those people that end up waiting on me tend to get a little antsy at that point.

 

Here's the deal: I get to work early. I do this for many reasons, parking not being one of them. However, it is a nice side effect that I get to pretty much pick my spot. And it's my spot as long as I occupy it. Don't even assume I'm leaving. This spot is occupied - find another.