Fill ‘Er Up

We needed to gas up at this point, so we pulled off in Asshair, Virginia* and found a station right off the highway.

Wow.

I think you might see where we’re headed here.

I was driving for about two and a half hours prior, so I said I would pay for this tank of gas and fill it as the others went inside, used the b-room, got a drink, etc. I’ll let Lioux elaborate on the crowd, as I was preoccupied. So I’m filling the tank, enjoying a stupendous people show, and I glance at the handle of the pump that I’m holding. Clear as day, I read the instruction “DO NOT TOP OFF”. I know what this means. It means when the pump stops, don’t keep clicking it to get the price to something even that you and your mental illness can live with. I read it, process the instruction and go back to the people show.

Maybe about a minute later, just to give you an idea of exactly how little time passed, I hear the familiar click of the pump’s auto shut-off. I glance at the price on the meter.

$48.13.

Surely I can do better than that, right? The little OCD voice inside my head goaded me to keep pumping. To get to that magical $48.50 mark. Just thirty-seven cents more, and I’ll be satisfied.

One click.

$48.22.

Ok, that wasn’t a good one. One more good one this time.

It is at this moment I hear a splattering sound, and feel a wet something-or-other on my leg and shoe.

Glancing down, I realize that the tank is overfilled, dripping onto the concrete and my leg.

Looking back at the pump in my hand, I once again read the warning.

“DO NOT TOP OFF”.

There it was. I saw it, and I didn’t heed it. I’ve got no one to blame.

And the kicker is that the inbred half-breed derelicts standing nearby can do this without the little faux pas I just made.

Oh – and I only got to $48.36.

And when I got back in the car, Elle, now sitting next to me, looks at me and goes, “Dude, your leg REEKS!” followed by “But it’s not that bad.”

Uh-huh.


(*Name withheld to protect the mutants living in this town)

L: Hahaha. While Alienwhere was outside pumping away, Elle, Marconi, and I went inside to the station’s little convenience store to use the restrooms and buy ourselves some treats. As we first entered the store, there was a young man whose car had just broken down and was seeking assistance from the clerk who was on duty. The clerk was little to no help at all, only offering the poor guy a yellow pages.

Elle and I both wanted coffee, and began pouring ourselves some cups. In turning around I notice the next patron to walk through the door. A hulking, fat, hairy and TOPLESS man. Yick. As Elle later put it, “He was about as charming as and reminiscent of Yosemite Sam.”

So as we go about preparing our coffee Elle now notices THERE IS NO MILK OR CREAM FOR THE COFFEE. Just that powdered crap. WHAT kind of convenience store doesn’t have MILK or CREAM available for their coffee. [Again the clerk was very non helpful]. In the end, Elle sucks it up and just makes her coffee with what’s available.

We climb back in the van, and now I’m at the wheel. Elle climbs in back with Alienwhere and that when we notice the pungent smell of gas inside the van…

The Proliferation of Stupid License Plates

A: According to a source living deep within the confines of the South, it costs only a few dollars more to get yourself a vanity plate when you get your license plates from D of MV. Needless to say, the inexpensive nature of such a luxury, coupled with the staggering level of jackassery and the inescapable need for idiots to express some uninteresting facet of their personalities results in a game we in the van call Passing Vanity. Here are some of the mindblowers we’ve found so far.

A: LUV 2B - I’d love to be as witty as you! How many other plates did you pass up to settle on this comic gem?

L: LUV to be what?

A: JDNZDAD - “Jaden’s Dad”? – Uh, really? You’re bragging? Jaden’s a little bitch who teases retarded children at school incessantly. Nice parenting job, jerk.

L: I wonder if Jaden’s mom has a JDNZMOM plate.

A: FESTOR - Clearly an Addam’s Family fan, although a mildly illiterate one.

L: [?]

A: TRUCK - Seen on a truck, would have been that much funnier on a different vehicle type.

L: Yes. I would’ve gotten this for my car.

A: INUNEZ - Celebrating Latino heritage in the spirit of Isaac Asimov.

L: No comment.

A: N2LOW1S - “Into Low Ones”? – Seen on a “Fast and the Furious” type aftermarket-addled POS. Driven by an equally asinine person, texting furiously as he does 75 mph, because risking it all is what it’s all about.

L: Dumb. I’m N2 lots of things, myself…But this one took us a minute to actually figure out.

A: ITSFATE - What’s fate? Being a moron? Driving a piece of garbage on a backwoods interstate? Or the fact that if we meet in person I may kill you where you stand when the stupid leaving your mouth reaches my ears?

L: Even douchebags have fates.

A: HSING - Banged-up old BMW, driven by a hot Asian girl. I got nothing. She was cute.

L: I missed that one.

A: GTZFMLY - “Gets Family”? “Gits Family?” “Get Z off Emily”? WTF?

L: One of my pet peeves are vanity plates that make no sense to me.

And a banger from the hotel parking lot:

A: TOPLES - convertible, presumably driven by an absolute trainwreck of a woman, smelling of Newports, vodka, and the absolute worst cheap perfume Walgreen’s has to offer.

L: I never saw the driver of this vehicle, but convinced Alienwhere to get a photo. While in the van resuming our trip and now blogging, Elle went into great detail of what this woman looked like. And yes. Total trainwreck.

[Wait. Did we just pass the exit for Dollywood]?