(I am back and we have some things to discuss. Can't... control.... anger!"

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

I want to pee - not do calculus

I ate at Outback the other night. Their bathrooms aren't "Men" , "Women" - or just a picture of man and a person in a skirt. At Outback it is "Blokes" and "Sheilas". Isn't that cute - really gets you into the Aussie spirit. Well due to "Crocadile Dundee" (and sobriety) I am able to figure out which of these to go to. However, I have been to other theme restaurants - and been totally wasted. At that point sometimes it's not always so clear. "Wrens" and "Drakes" or some such shit at a restaurant will totally fuck with your head. I mean you are drunk and have to piss and you are trying to figurew out which one indicates "there are urinals in here!!" I think there needs to be a law banning these things - or a law that says I am not responsible for pissing on your floor*

* I have a good "floor pissing" story. I'll tell it later - unless I forget - or decide not to.

Monday, April 25, 2005

There's some fine print for ya

When you went to school did they have a "ditto" machine? The ditto machine (maybe that's just what we called it) was like a welfare copier. It copied stuff - but it came out blue. I have no idea why they used that and not an actual copier - but I digress.

Anyway, maybe my ditto copy of the "How Global Warming Works" is a little fuzzy. But what the fuck? For real I am sure I remember some doom and gloom stuff about the earth getting hotter. I am sure it is in here somewhere. Ah I found it, "Due to fat lazy Americans, their cars and massive amounts of hairspray the earth is getting hotter and we are all going to die." Well maybe there is a new edition of this piece of shit - but just so they have some more data - parts of Cleveland got 18 inches of snow yesterday. That's right - on fucking April 24th - 1.5 feet of snow.

Well, there are 2 possibilities :
(1) This global warming thing is a bunch of hooey
(2) We aren't doing enough

I'd like to focus on (2). I think that the science is valid - so the issue is that we are not doing enough. Well I like it warm in April - so here is what you can do to help.
  • Leave your car running. From now on when I am at work I am going to leave my car in the parking lot idling
  • Use heroic amounts of CFC enriched hairspray
  • Support bill HR-43342 which demands the hair metal bands of the 80's go back on tour and make big hair "cool again"
  • Buy some coal and burn it for no reason
  • Eat lots of 1/2 pound bean Burritos at Taco Bell
If we can't do this together - pull together to warm this M'Fer up.... well then the terrorist have won.

Friday, April 22, 2005


So I added a new section of links over there -->
This is the heroes section. It is for US soldiers that are blogging from Iraq. If you don't agree with our government or its international policies that is your right as an American. However, if you carry this contempt to our soldiers in the field... well its time to get the fuck out of my blog. I can't kick your ass or kick you out of the country (both of which I'd like to do)- but kindly hit the "next blog" button in the upper right and get the fuck out of here.

I have such a huge amount of admiration for these men (I'll add women if I find any) and what they do. See I have some guilt in my life for not ever serving in the military. I think it is the most honorable and American thing you can do and I never did it. The closest I could come was to name my first born for a friend that served in the military. Oh and scream like an absolute fucking maniac during all jet fly-bys at sporting events. You know the pilots love that.

Thursday, April 21, 2005


In my post from yesterday I was talking about how the virgin Mary appears in pancakes and screen doors and stuff. So I got thinking, "how come Joseph never appears anywhere?" Then I had a more profound thought (I am *NOT* religious and I am super ignorant on this stuff - so I am left to pagan speculation) "Was Joseph even important? I mean is he worthy of God marring a perfectly good bridge support?" Let's dig deeper....

I think "Smallville" is about Superman when he was a teenager (I don't watch it so I am not sure). I think it would be cool to have a show like that - but with Jesus. Like "Jesus the Teen Years" I mean I am sure he was a really good kid - but he had to pull some stuff every once in a while.

[Joseph walks into the house]
[One of Jesus's friends is leaving with a big smile on his face - he is carrying a carafe]
[Jesus sits on the couch. Sandals up on the coffee table]
Joseph - "Who was that?"
JC - "That's one of my buddies"
Joseph - "He looked under age - you didn't turn water into wine for him... did you??"
JC - "Lay off man - he just wanted to get a quick buzz"
Joseph - "Jesus I am tired of having to constantly watch over you, the other day Mrs. Caligus said she saw you standing on the surface of her pool trying to peek into her daughter's window."
JC - "That wasn't me!"
Joseph - "JESUS! Don't you lie to me boy. I will take you over my knee!"
JC - "Lay off old man.... You're not my real dad anyway!"
(You know he had to go to that one pretty often)
[Joseph storms out]
[JC eats some Salt and Vinegar Prigles]

So I am going to hell - but this is the stuff I think about.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

Are you kidding me?

Just read this headline and look at the picture (I'll wait here for a minute.....). C'mon people!! If God is all powerful and can let his kid walk on water and be born without intercourse* is he going to show himself by staining a bridge abutment? Just like it says in Deuteronomy, "and the lord will cast light upon the land and his power will be visible to man. His glory will radiate on man - and you will know this day when he makes a stain on some bridge in Chicago" WTF? I mean everyone knows that God typically works in tortilla or birth marks - but not concrete. Concrete is a tough medium to work in - even for the all mighty. Generally Mary is chillin' on a knot of wood or something.

Let's see I have unlimited power - but I will show myself where bums stop to take a dump.

* - how much would this suck in the modern world. You go on a few dates but don't have sex. Your girlfriend gets pregnant (immaculant conception) but you assume she is cheating. Her parents disown her for being a lying whore - and you dump her ass. I guess Immaculant Conception is frowned upon a lot more now than back in the day.

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

Lookin' for porn in all the wrong places

When I was a kid we didn't have the Internet on all these fancy computers. Back then if you wanted porn you had to go find it - it wasn't going to just pop into your Livingroom at 1024 x 768. So from a young age I can remember several adventures for porn. I think these are in chronological order (I can't remember the specific dates however).

Kenny Smith's fort - (note name not changed - Kenny won't mind). There was an older kid that lived at the end of my street named Kenny. Kenny had this awesome tree fort - but we weren't really allowed in it (because we were much younger). At some point we must have snuck in and discovered Kenny had a Playboy!!! Holy crap - this was my first exposure to the nude female form.... and I liked it. Some people ask me, "Scott, did you become heterosexual? Or do you think you were born that way?" (A fair question). Well I don't know the answer - but man I liked what I saw!! I can remember one of the pictures clearly. A lady with a snake on her shoulders. If that lady stood in a lineup of 1,000 other women I could pick her out to this day (if she took off her top and put a snake on her shoulders - oh and if she wasn't like 65 now).

Ben Smith's dad's sock drawer - Ben Smith's (name not changed) dad had a stash of Playboys in his sock drawer. One day while over at Ben's he announced this fact and then proceeded to raid the stash. We perused quite a few hotties and didn't get caught - nice!

My dad's "dirty" magazines - As a gag gift, for his birthday, my dad's friend gave him a box that was proudly labelled "Dirty Magazines". Well it was all a big tease! They were actual nudie mags but Pete had put mud in all of the pages... get it? Dirty? Dammit Pete!!! You are wasting quality porn here!!!!

V&S magazine rack - In my town there was a store called V&S Variety. They sold penny candy and Garbage Pail Kids (awesome) [Garbage Pail Kids started selling in 1985 - so figure I am 10 at this point]. They also had a big magazine rack. In the rack were lots of comics - but also nudie-mags. Well, we were clever 10 year olds. We would pick up a comic and then put a nudie-mag inside. We could look at real naked chicks and no one knew!! Well maybe they knew and didn't care - either way - it ruled!

Playboy channel (part 1) - At some point my parents got cable. Well back in the day scrambling technology was a little lacking. So the image would be a little wobbly - but the sound was unaffected. Well - "uh uh uh ahhhh oooohh" sounds the same if the picture is wobbly or not.

Playboy channel (part 2) - Well a kid in the neighborhood, Chuck (name not changed), had taken this to the next level. At his house the cable box had an A/B button. If you pressed it really fast it descrambled the picture. Holy shit! Live nude women! I mean you'd have carple tunnel from hitting the button like 400/minute - but it was worth it.

Playboy channel (part 3) - This is the pinnacle of my childhood porn life. My friend Jack (real name) calls me and says, "GO TO 35!" I flip to channel 35. It is the Playboy channel - but for some reason there is no scrambling what-so-ever!! It is coming in clear as day. Well I kept my thumb on the channel up button (in case someone walked in) but for a glorious hour I saw uninterrupted porn!!! It was the greatest day of my life (I mean besides getting married and having kids and all of the other stuff you are supposed to say).

Saturday, April 16, 2005


I'm not sure what the deal with ChapStick is - but I am totally addicted to it. I have ChapStick in my car, in the bathroom, in the livingroom - it's everywhere! I need it close by - because when I get that "not so moist" feeling I need to lube up. I think the makers of ChapStick put something in there that makes you chemically dependent on it. Once you start you can't stop. "Let's make strawberry or bubblegum flavor - something to get them hooked young." Screw Phillip Morris - the government needs a class action suit against ChapStick. They are targeting children!!!! Here is the weirdest thing about ChapStick - I used to only need it in the winter - now I need it almost year round. Damn you ChapStick!!!! If I forget it, like at a football game, I feel like my lips are going to fall off!

My roomate in college was Indian (from Indian - not the Indians from America). He *never* got chapped lips. WTF?!? How is that possible? He skied and stuff - yet no chapped lips. Clearly the Indians are genetically superior and will enslave the white race at some point. They'll just buy up all of the ChapStick companies and then jack up the price and we will be their bitches!!

Friday, April 15, 2005

What is that smell?

So people seem to really like the pissed off Scott more than the other one. Mark refers to them as, "the introspective 'me and my nutbag' Scott, and the pissed off Scott" Well once I vent in some post I am usually happy for a day or two - so pissed off Scott can't come out and play today.

If you ever read Erik's blog he is constantly trying to find the source of various smells around Cleveland. Well there is a stank today - but I know the source.... It's me.

Normally I wear two shirts, an undershirt and a button-up shirt. That is what i have on today. Well... One of these shirts stinks. It's not a B.O. stank or something I spilled. No it's more subtle. The stank was totally undetectable when I got dressed this morning - you see this funk is body heat activated (like Degree antipersperant). Here's the deal one of these shirts got left in the washing machine. I am not sure how long it sat there... wet and clung to the side... but is was a while. Anyway somehow that combination of dark, wet and compacted = funk. It is a nasty funk and I get to smell it all day long. If you've ever had this issue you know it sucks the big one. WTF? Aren't the shirts totally clean and in clean water just sitting there damp (yet totally clean)? Where does this total shit-smell emerge from?

Anyway - I have to suffer through this all day. Oh, and I have to go home and see if I can find shit that was in the same load as one of these shirts. Good times!

Thursday, April 14, 2005

Super Size Me

The main point of this blog is to bitch about how bad people piss me off. Well I've strayed a bit from my core purpose - but something I saw this morning yanked me right back. I was watching the news and there was a report about new research shows diets high in Soy and fish can reduce the risk of heart disease. Enough okay? Enough with the fucking research - we get it. Food that tastes good and is really awesome is not good for you. Ice Cream, Big Macs, mayo, Doughnuts, cheesecake all taste totally awesome and are all really bad for you. Fish livers, bean sprouts, turnips, lima beans all taste like total shit and are great for you. Stop fucking researching it!!

See our bodies have evolved over 100's of thousands of years. Most of that time was spent struggling for survival of the species. So our genetic code and instincts tell us to find foods that will keep us alive - perhaps for a long time without another meal. So we crave foods that have a high fat content (because our Medulla or some shit tells us that we may not be able to eat again for a long time). Our Cerebellum (or something) is where we can reason out that we will probably eat again and we should have Tofu and sprouts and not eat bacon wrapped steak.

But researchers and the news have to totally shove it in our face all the time. "Coming up our report that links cigarettes to anal cancer!" Holy fucking shit! Why are people researching this still? Cigarettes kill you, Big Macs kill you - fucking move on and research something I need. Like a device that will help me remember awesome blog posts that I think up while I am in traffic - but then forget before I get to a computer. Or a giant tarp that police can deploy when they pull someone over on the highway - the tarp would hide the cop (who is out of his fucking car and isn't watching your speed at all you fucking brake-jamming-dickwad) from other cars so they wouldn't rubber-neck and basically act like total fucking imbiciles.

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

Bait and Switch

The best part about knocking a chick up is that you no longer have to worry about knocking that chick up. What I mean is once she is pregnant you no longer have to take precautions to prevent pregnancy. No pills, creams, gels, condoms, sponges, plugs, thermometers etc. You want to get some lovin' - you just go for it. So that's pretty awesome. After you have a kid you have to wait 6 weeks before the "Out of Order" sign comes down (this is understandable since one of my kids was over 10 lbs). Anyway, my wife breast feeds the baby. I, being a scholar of highschool Health, know that while breastfeeding a girl can't get pregnant. Awesome! I mean its like all of the unprotected sex - but none of the weird feelings that i might be poking my baby in the eye! Well here is where the bait and switch comes in. Oh, but wait! Apparently something that all gynocologists and mommies know is that you *can* get pregnant - I mean it is possible!!! WTF!! This is bullshit! Oh and the hormones in "the pill" are not good for breast feeding - so I have been reduced to condoms!!

[If you are under 18 please read the next line and then stop reading] Condoms are a fantastic contraceptive that can enhance your experience with your partner and protect you from STDs and pregnancy while not altrering the level of enjoyment for either partner. [okay kids stop reading]

[Adults] The line above is total fucking bullshit. Holy shit condoms suck. I can't even list the ways these things suck. Okay maybe I can. (1) They smell weird. (2) Even at age 30 I feel weird buying them. (3) The 3 minute break in the action to go put it on is the worst thing ever. (4) I can never tell which way it rolls out - so I have to inspect it for about 2 minutes before I can put it on. (5) You can't feel a thing. (If a guy/girl says it feels the same - errrrrr! wrong!) (6) I have broken 2 or 3 in my life - which makes for comfortable couple of weeks of waiting.

So I have this box of condoms (Trojan) and I have to admit - my wife bought it. But it is like an 18 pack - I don't want to get too personal - but the condoms have a shelf life of like 3 years. So that is like 6 condoms a year. I'm just saying I might be cutting it close to having some expire.

Back when pregnancy meant getting kicked out of the house I didn't use Trojans, I used "Gold Circle Coin". You see Consumer Reports did an test on condoms and those were rated the highest. They could consistently inflate to the size of a watermellon and not burst. I figure I might need that feature at some point. Anyway I am sick of condoms. Marriage shouldn't be about condoms. It should be about throw down - go crazy sex whenever someone decides they want it*

* when both kids are in bed, no one has a headache or a meeting or a level that the just have to beat or is tired or might have to wake up for the kids later or just finished volleyball or has to get up early or their back hurts.

Friday, April 08, 2005


Before blogging there was college. College was the first forum where people just talked about anything and everything (like Blogging). For example, I had a friend Traci, one day she just goes, "I love doggy-style - best penetration." Very matter-of-factly. So apparently that made some kind of mark on me because I still remember - however I forgot whatever the teacher was saying.

So one time I was talking to my roomate. And we start talking about a phenomenon that we would later call NRB. You may have heard of it - it is in Urban Dictionary - so we didn't invent it - unless we did and then it made it to U.D. Anyway NRB is "No Reason Boner". This is a situation where, as a guy, you are doing nothing remotely sexual in nature and boing! It just jumps up to full salute. This is also know as "I don't want to go to the Black Board right now"itis. The condition afflicts men of all ages, races and religions. Please do not confuse this with jean boner. Jean boner can strike both genders. Jean boner is the thing when a weird fold of denim makes it look like you are sportin' major chub. NRB is when you are, in fact, sporting major chub - but for no reason.

It's like your junk decides to perform an emergency preparedness drill. "All hands! All hands!! This is a test - man your battlestations!! We are go for full salute in 15 seconds.. GO GO GO!!" You as the owner of said junk are unaware of the emergency drill schedule. Sometimes it can be at the worst times. When I in highschool I was on the swim team. This kid from the other team had NRB and he was standing on the starting blocks. He kept bending into the start position, but the starter (who could not see the front of him) kept saying, "swimmers up - we all have to come down together" So NRB boy has to stand (with only a Speedo on) and wait to be "allowed" to assume the starting position.

Anyway - females may not know that NRB is out there and that it can attack at any time. Females may know about morning-wood but that is a sort of specific offshoot of NRB and generally anyone in the bed with/near you has probably already seen the junk already (nicely done). So just a warning.

Thursday, April 07, 2005

Fighting with the bouncer at Gerry's funeral

John keeps writing these awesome posts about when he was a kid. I have lots of good kid stories too - but I want to write a story about now. This is totally unbelieveable - but totally true. A few disclaimers (1) all names have been changed. If my mom ever read this she'd kick my ass - but changing the names might allow her to stop at that. (2) my great uncle "Gerry" is dead - that is the start of the story - that is the least funny part.

So Gerry passed away a few months ago (don't ask lots of questions about the time of death versus the memorial date). He was my mom's uncle. My mom's side of the family is pretty crazy and this guy was the head of the craziest clan (he was pretty normal but his daughters are whack).
Daughter 1 - this daughter is the most normal. I could have regular conversations with her and she didn't have any crazy beliefs or "causes". Oh she has a hook for a hand.
Daughter 2 - (yeah you read that right #1 has a hook for a hand - awesome). Daughter 2 is more whacked-out. I went to her wedding. She was barefoot and her husband has a white-fro (a la Bob Ross). She changed her name when she got married (pretty normal eh?) Oh but she changed her first name!! She went from Roberta to Elisa!!! WTF? Then she switched back.
Daughter 3- This girl has the New York state license plate "No Nukes" - she has like a billion bumper stickers. I bet mentioning George Bush would put her into a killer rage. Her son, Jason, does not have a dad. I mean no one knows who it is. This is awesome because it allows my dad to say bastard like a million times every time we are driving to a reunion. "Will jason-the-bastard be there?" Then my mom yells at him - then he justifies bastard and says it like another million times

Okay, so this bunch was in charge of Gerry's memorial service. Gerry was Quaker. Not sure if you have ever been to a Quaker event - but here's the deal. There is no Rabbi or Priest - just a bunch of people sitting there. No one says anything - at some point when someone is inspired they stand and share a thought - then they sit down. Everyone is encouraged to quietly reflect on it. Then after a few minutes the process repeats. So you really have to hope that you don't fart.

Okay - so they plan the memorial (it is this upcoming weekend) I am not going because I spent my whole life in the car this past weekend. My mom told me it was at some reception hall. Okay - here's the clincher - they aren't paying for it. Gerry's estate isn't paying for it. They are collecting money at the door!?!! My Great Uncle's funeral has a fucking cover - I shit you not! Oh my God, questions started puring out of me, "Do the kids get in free? Is there a senior discount? Kids shorter than this line can't attend? Early Bird specials? Coupons?" Holy christ this is comic pay-dirt. I hope there is a bouncer and my dad gets all, "Jason-the-bastard" and they kick him out. Holy F that would be the coolest thing ever.

Oh - I am making my sister go and take notes on the ensuing crazy. I will post details next week.

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

My Thought

So I have this burning question - it has been bothering me for months now. It is approaching the level of my ultimate unanswered question, "What is the deal with Canadian Thanksgiving?" I mean did they have Pilgrims and Indians too? Shamus is Canadian - but they are very tight lipped about the whole thing. Anyway my question is this, "How do new sign language signs get spread to all of the deaf people?"

Like say there is a new invention called Jusskins. The word doesn't exists - but at some point deaf people will have a sign for it. They will all have the same sign. How is the sign determined? Who passes it around? Why isn't it like the telephone game - where it gets all fucked up as it is passed from person to person. Do they have a show/website that they can look at, "Here are all of the new signs for this week. Schiavo... tsunami... " I am totally baffled. I mean I figure out how to say Jusskins because I can hear the f'ing commercial - but how do they learn the sign? It is killing me!!

Also, if I can learn how this passing of knowledge happens I could use it to make signs for hearing folks. Like when you are walking directly at someone and you get that weird little dance as you try to avoid each other. There could be a sign that means, "everyone go to their left" Then the collision would be avoided. Or a sign that means - don't hold the elevator, I am going to turn towards the bathrooms. Those would be really useful.

Tuesday, April 05, 2005

Bob Ross

I am pretty sure you know who Bob Ross is - you may think you don't - but you do. He is this guy that makes paintings on PBS, he is white but has an afro... He talks about happy trees and happy clouds... he is awesome. Anyway, he's dead - sorry if you were unaware. But his legacy lives on via PBS. So I set my ReplayTV to record "The Joy of Painting". I watched the same episode like 6 times yesterday - it put me into some kind of hypnotic trance. I swear I could have had major surgery without anisthetic - I was that entranced. Has anyone seen this guy? Or experienced this phenomenon? Anyway - my ReplyTV will be capturing more Bob Ross in the future.

Monday, April 04, 2005

Daylight Savings Time

I vistited my family in Western New York this weekend. When I was there I saw this documentary about the evolution of Daylight Savings - it talked about when it became law and standardized etc. It was pretty interesting. Some states and areas don't have the same rules for Daylight Savings which is funny - not funny 'ha ha' - funny I will fucking kill every last mother-fucker in the state of Pennsylvania. So like in Indiana and Arizona they don't do Daylight Savings - and in other places you "lose" an hour. But in Pennsylvania you lose 6 hours!!!

FUPA - is a funny word. You can go www.fupa.com and see a funny picture (make sure no one is standing directly behind you or they will look at you funny). Anyway - the definition of FUPA at urban Dictionary (link above) is the same definition I always had. But from now on FUPA means Fuck You Pennsylvania. I will forever refer to Pennsylvania as FUPA.

Here is my tale of woe with FUPA. Yesterday I left Western NY at 2pm. The trip to Cleveland is 4 hours with no kids and 5 hours with kids. So I figure we'll be rolling into C-town around 7ish. Not too bad - a bit later than I'd like but still okay. As we get farther west in NY the roads start getting shittier and shitter with snow and ice. Our average speed is about 45MPH on Interstate 90. We stop at a rest stop that is about 70 miles from the FUPA line and feed and change kids. We get back on the highway and there is a car off the road literally every mile for 10 miles. Then it spaces out to about every 3 miles. Needless to say people are shitty drivers. We press on.

At 5pm we hit the FUPA line (so it took 3 hours - it normally only takes 2). We get 4.1 miles into FUPA and we come to a stop. Darn - must be an accident (or a suicide). So we stop for a minute. I figure I'll tune the radio and get some traffic info. Oh this area must not have an AM station so I search FM. I get to an FM station 94.7 (Froggy FM). This asshole on this station keeps referring to times that indicate to me he hasn't changed his clock - nice work shit bag. He gives out some phone number to call for more info on traffic. I call it once but it is busy. My cell battery has one nugget left so I call my mom and have her call the number until she can get through. We have been sitting - in the same exact spot for 1 hour. We finally decide to get the kids out of their seats so the can move around.

My mom calls back and says, "90 is closed - there are no passible roads through Erie. The guy at the 'barracks' recommends just exiting and bunkering down." Oh, cool - so at zero MPH I will reach the next exit.... NEVER you fucking moron barracks douche bag. So we "play" in the car and listen to the radio - flipping to find any kind of additional info. Another hour goes by and people are walking around their cars. NO cars are going by us EastBound - so things are fucked in that direction too. Enter - "the Shoveler".

No plows have gone by in either direction. No police have driven/flown by. The Emergency Broadcasting System is not activated. The guy on Froggy still thinks it is an hour ago and is giving me weather updates for an hour ago. It is snowing pretty hard when a guy walks over to the median. He has a staff of somekind and he is measuring the snow depth. It varies - but it is between 2 and 4 feet deep. We watch a German Shepard try to "its business" and fail to make it through the snow. At the same time "the Shoveler" appears. He looks like an every day citizen - but he isn't he has a shovel and he starts digging a path from the WestBound lanes to the Eastbound ones via the median. It is 2-4 feet deep and about 50 feet across x a car width wide. That is what he is going for! So he starts digging. We watch for about an hour - he is digging away. Once he hits the 1/2 way point other people go out to help. They are using the floor mats of their cars to dig out. After about 30 minutes more they have made it!

So this path now exists - it has been over 3 hours. The first car (a trail rated Jeep Cherokee) lines up and goes through the path. It makes it - people honk and cheer. (It is just like in Empire Strikes Back when the Rebels launch their ships and the base announces "the first ships are away - the first ships are away" and the Rebels cheer). In Die Hard 2, when Bruce Willis blows up the bad guy's plane leaving a long streak of jet fuel on the run way, he yells there's your landing lights!!! Tell them to follow the flames!! [other guy] They already know!! And the planes all land safely. Well other cars shot the gap following just like that - with no instruction. A Chevy Avalanche, a Geo Tracker!!!, a couple others - then a Pontiac goes through - but doesn't make it. I told my wife I was going to help push if anyone got stuck. But back on the ranch my kids are both screaming.... Oh, also traffic is moving... So sorry Pontiac guy - we are the fuck OUT OF HERE!

We move .1 miles. I shit you not. We moved .1 miles after almost 4 fucking hours. My wife has to pee. She proceeds to get out of the car and pee right in front of it. I get out and do the same. I wish I had a poo - I'd love to shit on FUPA. Oh, speaking of shit... During the 4 hour ordeal - I have had the worst, smelliest, foulest gas of my entire life. I am not fucking kidding - I thought the troopers would find us assfixiated. It was AWFUL!!

We sit 1 more hour and start moving a little bit more - then another stop. Finally (after over 5 hours a .4 miles) we start to move a bit faster. We get to the exit (that has always be 2 miles away). They force everyone off the highway (A cop car blocks the highway). We get to the bottom of the ramp - in 5 hours FUPA's finest have managed to put up NO signs, no one is directing traffic. It is fucking ANARCHY! We cross over the center of the road and turn around (there are some douches blocking the on ramp). I get out of the car and say, "Any suggestions?" (What I want to say is I will kill every last one of you lazy, useless, worthless pieces of shit. Your level of incompetence is so fucking unfathamable I will fucking destroy you. The goddamn Iraqis would rebuild a bridge over night after Allied airstrikes in the first Gulf War. REBUILD a bridge overnight - you can't plow and salt a road in 5 goddamn hours!!! But I restrain myself). He says, "If you are going to Cleveland you can take this road 5 miles south and get on 86 - that will connect you back to the 90." Wow - that was surprisingly helpful.

So I drive the 5 miles - the "road" is a disaster of ice and snow. I get to the 86 and immediately realize that I am not getting on. There is a 6 foot snow drift where the entrance to the 86 is supposed to be - there are cops and trucks all over. No one is moving. Something clicks in the wife - her brain says rage. She gets out and I can tell by her hands that she is MF'ing some cops up and down for the sins of some assholes 5 miles away. She comes back and says there is a "shelter" a few miles away - with cots, food and water. Fuck that - I am getting out of FUPA - oh and I am going back and killing the fuckers that told us to use 86. We turn around. I am planning the deaths of the fuckers that told me to go to 86. When we get back to their spot... they are... gone! The ramp is open - the highway is open - it is clear. We have no issues passing the road. However, there are 1000's of cars stopped on the far side of the road. So after sucking away 6 hours of my life we escape. I get home at 2am. Fuck you FUPA!!!!!